Feluda got into the tonga and said to the driver: ‘Hazratganj.’ ‘Where is that?’ I asked. ‘It is the Chowringhee of Lucknow. There’s lots to see in this town, beside royal palaces. I want to look at the shops today.’ Yesterday, from the Residency, we had gone to Bonobihari Babu’s house for coffee, and taken a look at all the animals once more—the hyena, the rattle-snake, the spider, the wild cat and the scorpion. While having coffee in the living-room, Feluda had looked at a locked door and said to Bonobihari Babu, ‘I had noticed it was locked the last time we were here. Where does it lead to?’ ‘Oh yes—it’s just a spare room. I’ve kept it locked ever since I moved in. Didn’t want to take the trouble of having it cleaned, you see.’ ‘In that case, the padlock on it must have been recently changed—for it isn’t rusted at all.’ Bonobihari Babu’s smile did not falter, but he gave Feluda a very sharp look. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘the old one got so rusty that I was obliged to change it.’ Baba changed the subject. ‘We were thinking of going to Haridwar and Laxmanjhoola,’ he said. Bonobihari Babu lit his pipe and blew out a pungent-smelling smoke. ‘When would you like to go?’ he asked. ‘If you leave the day after tomorrow, I can come with you. I told you about that twelve-foot python, didn’t I? I really must take a look at it. Besides, our sleuth has turned so active that it might be a good idea for all of us to go out of town for a while.’ Dhiru Kaka said, ‘I cannot do that quite so easily. But there’s no reason why the three of you can’t go. Felu and Tapesh mustn’t go back without having seen Laxmanjhoola.’ ‘If you come with me,’ said Bonobihari Babu, ‘I can arrange for you to stay at a dharamshala I know; and get a car to take you to Laxmanjhoola from Haridwar. I know a lot of people there. Now you must decide what you want to do.’ We decided to go with Bonobihari Babu on Friday, which was the day after tomorrow. Even a couple of days ago, I would have been quite pleased to have Bonobihari Babu accompany us. But the incident at the Residency had made me feel doubtful about the man. But Feluda didn’t seem to mind, so I told myself not to worry. This morning, Feluda said, ‘I’ve run out of razor blades. Let’s go and get some.’ And so we were out in a tonga, going to Hazratganj. Apparently, you could get anything you wanted in Hazratganj. Feluda had been totally silent since yesterday regarding the matter of the ring. When he had gone for his bath this morning, I had tried to read his scribbles once more, but they still didn’t make any sense. One or two letters appeared to be English, but the rest were all totally strange.

Sitting beside him in the tonga, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer, and told him what I’d done. He was furious at first. ‘What you’ve done is despicable!’ he said sternly. ‘Why, one could call you a criminal!’ Then he relented a little. ‘You could never read those words,’ he said more amiably, ‘because you don’t know the script.’ ‘What script is it?’ ‘Greek.’ ‘And the language? Is that Greek, too?’ ‘No, it’s English.’ ‘Where did you learn to write in Greek?’ ‘A long time ago, when I had just joined college. Some of those letters, of course, I had learnt in my maths class. You know, things like alpha, beta, gamma, delta, mu, pi, upsilon. I learnt the others from the Encyclopaedia Britannica. If you write something in English using Greek letters, it sounds like a code. No one could possibly make any sense of it!’ ‘How would you spell Lucknow in Greek?’ ‘Lambda upsilon kappa nu omicron upsilon. The letters “c” and “w” do not exist in Greek, so the spelling would be LUKNOU.’ ‘And how would you spell Calcutta?’ ‘Kappa alpha lambda kappa upsilon tau tau alpha.’ ‘Good heavens—it would take an hour to spell just three words!’ Hazratganj wasn’t exactly Chowringhee, but it had some nice shops. We paid the tonga off and began walking. ‘Look, Feluda, there’s a stationery shop. They’ll have blades.’ ‘Wait. There’s something else I need to do.’ Feluda suddenly stopped before a shop. ‘Malkani & Co., Antique & Curio Dealers’, its signboard proclaimed in large letters. One look at the showcase outside told me it was a shop that sold old things. Inside, it was packed with ancient jewellery, carpets, clocks, furniture, chandeliers, framed photographs and heaven knows what else. A silver-haired gentleman in gold-framed glasses came forward to greet us. ‘Do you have any jewellery dating back to the Mughal times?’ ‘No, I’m afraid not. But I could show you shields and armours of that period. Will that do?’ Feluda picked up an attardaan (perfume container) and turned it in his hand. ‘I had seen some old jewellery in Pyarela’s house,’ he remarked casually. ‘He was a regular customer here, wasn’t he?’ The man seemed taken aback. ‘Who? Which Pyarelal are you talking about?’ ‘Pyarelal Seth. The one who died a few months ago?’ Mr Malkani shook his head and said, ‘No, he never bought anything from us, although ours is the biggest shop of this kind in Lucknow.’ ‘I see. In that case he must have bought those things in Calcutta.’ ‘Probably.’

‘Who are your biggest buyers here?’ It was obvious from Mr Malkani’s expression that he didn’t have too many big buyers. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘tourists from abroad sometimes buy things from us at a good price. Among the locals is Mr Mehta who buys a few things occasionally; and there’s Mr Pestonji, who’s one of my oldest customers. He bought a real Persian carpet only the other day for three thousand rupees.’ Feluda suddenly pointed at a barge