By the time Mahesh Chowdhury was brought home, it was half past two. He was still unconscious. Judging by the injury on his head, he had been standing when he fell. The doctor who examined him said it was a heart attack. His heart was not particularly strong, anyway. The attack might have been caused by a sudden shock. His overall condition was critical; the doctor could not hold out much hope for a recovery. He was found lying in an area behind a large boulder. We could see the boulder from where we sat, but not what lay behind it. None of us had seen him go there. Pritin Babu, who had climbed up a slope to go into the trees on the top of a hill, found him on his way back, as he came out in the open and looked down. At first, he had thought his father had died. That was why he had rushed to us, looking deathly pale. Feluda felt Mr Chowdhury’s pulse and said he was still alive. His head had struck against a stone the size of a brick. A pool of blood lay around it. Like everyone else, I felt dazed, but couldn’t help noticing two pretty yellow butterflies fluttering around the unconscious man. A minute later, we were joined first by Arun Babu, and then Akhil Chakravarty. Shankarlal was the last to arrive. He broke down immediately as he realized what had happened. There could be no doubt about his attachment and devotion to the old man. It was clearly impossible for us to pick him up and carry him across the river. His two sons left at once to go back and get an ambulance. It took them more than two hours to return with a medical team, and another hour to move their father away in the ambulance. All of us returned to Kailash and remained there for a while. Since no one had had any lunch, Neelima Devi served the food that had been packed for the picnic: parathas, aloo-dum and kababs. Once she had got over the initial shock, she had regained her composure fully. I had to admire her. Little Bibi was the only one who didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. She kept saying her Dadu had simply had a dizzy spell, and would soon be playing with her again. We waited in the drawing room. Arun Babu remained upstairs with his father, and Pritin Chowdhury came and joined us every now and then. Shankarlal was sitting still like a statue. He hadn’t spoken a single word since we left Rajrappa. Akhil Chakravarty was saying the same thing over and over: ‘I told him not to go out today, but he didn’t listen to me!’ We left at around four o’clock. ‘We’ll come back tomorrow,’ Feluda told Pritin Babu. ‘Please do let us know if we can do anything to help.’ ‘Thank you.’ On reaching our own house, each of us had a