It was almost the end of February, but it still felt quite cool. The days, however, were now longer than in winter, and until six o’clock, it stayed reasonably bright. By the time we left the restaurant after a cup of coffee and a plate of chicken cutlets, it was a quarter past six. On our way to Princep Ghat, Lalmohan Babu began taking deep breaths every now and then, saying, ‘Aaaaah!’ in order to impress upon passersby that we wanted no more than to enjoy the fresh evening air. It was not a convincing act at all, but luckily, there were so few people about, and even the bhelpuriwallas had been left so far behind, that it did not really matter. It took us ten minutes to reach the pavilion Feluda had mentioned. We found ourselves a bench. After a few moments, Lalmohan Babu glanced around and said, ‘Can you see your cousin anywhere?’ I could not see anyone at all, except boatmen in little boats on the river. The tall pillars around the ghat, each of them a hundred and fifty years old, towered over the water. It was quickly getting dark. If anyone crept up to any of those pillars to either leave a bag or take it, the chances of being seen were almost nil. ‘Look, over there!’ Lalmohan Babu hissed, clutching at my sleeve. I had seen him too. A man wearing white trousers and a dark jacket with a bag in his hand was quietly approaching one of the pillars. Bilash, Ambar Sen’s driver. He disappeared behind the pillar and emerged again a few seconds later. Now his hand was empty. He walked on until he reached the main road, then he turned right and disappeared behind a tree. It was now past six-thirty and almost totally dark. I could see nothing except the first row of pillars. Just for a second I thought I saw something move in the dark, but that could well have been my imagination. Then we saw Mr Sen’s car go past and turn in the direction of the Happy Restaurant. Three young boys in jeans came walking along after this, followed by an elderly European gentlemen with a walking stick. All of them went in the same direction as the car. We rose to our feet, and made our way back to our own car in ten minutes. But where was Feluda? ‘Salaam, babu!’ said a voice from inside the car. I peered quickly and saw an old man sitting next to the driver. He was wearing a lungi. Around his shoulders was a snuff-coloured wrapper, and on his face a heavy stubble. Feluda! Disguised as a Muslim boatman. Before either of us could say anything, Ambuj Sen arrived from across the road. Feluda greeted him, hurriedly explaining why he was in disguise. ‘I had to hide in one of those boats, since the ghat is clearly visible only from the river.’ ‘But what happened, Mr Mitter? What did you see?’ Feluda shook his head slowly. ‘Very sorry, Mr Sen,’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The man escaped with the money before I could get to the ghat.’

‘What! You mean all that money, and the man . . . are both gone?’ ‘Yes, I am afraid so. I told you I was sorry.’ Ambuj Babu stared blankly at Feluda. To tell the truth, my own head was reeling. I had never seen Feluda defeated like this. ‘You’ll have to tell the police,’ Feluda said. ‘I suggest you go back home. Your brother ought to return now, I’ll join you there, only give me a little time to get changed. I can hardly walk into your drawing room looking like this.’ We came back home simply so that Feluda could get into some decent clothes. He also needed to wash his hands which were stained black. ‘Coal tar,’ he told me when I asked him what it was. But he did not say whether it was a part of his disguise, or whether he had stained his hands accidentally. It was nearly half past seven by the time we set off for Palm Avenue. Nobody spoke on the way except Lalmohan Babu, who said, ‘It was a brilliant disguise, Felu Babu. Pity it did nothing to help you.’ Feluda made no reply. Runa greeted us at the door. ‘Uncle has come back!’ she shouted in glee. Ambar Babu, we were told, had returned only ten minutes before our arrival. He rose from a sofa as we went in and came forward to clasp Feluda’s hands in his own and shake them warmly. Ambuj Babu, his wife, and Samaresh Mallik were all present in the room. ‘Where had they hidden you? What exactly happened?’ Lalmohan Babu asked with a big smile. ‘Oh my God, I hardly know where to begin . . .’ ‘Don’t,’ said Feluda, raising a hand. ‘Don’t say anything at all, because if you open your mouth, Mr Sen, you will simply have to use your imagination again. Please note that I used the term “imagination”, not “lies”.’ ‘Hurrah! Hurrah!’ Runa jumped up and down with joy. ‘Feluda has guessed it. He has caught you out!’ Feluda lit a Charminar. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly, ‘you had all got together in a conspiracy, hadn’t you? I have worked that out, though the reason for it is still a mystery.’ ‘Please allow me to explain everything,’ Ambar Sen laughed. ‘The reason for all this is my little niece. Yes, sir. You see, she worships you. She is convinced you can never be fooled, and that you are incapable of making a mistake. So I said to her one day that I could get you involved in a totally bogus case. And that was it. That was how this whole business started. We’ve all had a role to play.’ ‘You mean it was something like a family drama?’ ‘Exactly. I taught everyone what to say. I knew more