Feluda had told Mr Dhar that he would take a day to make up his mind. But within an hour of Mr Dhar’s departure, he decided that he would go to Rajasthan. When he told me about it, I asked, ‘I am going with you, aren’t I?’ ‘If you can name five places in Rajasthan that have forts—all within a minute—then you might stand a chance.’ ‘Jodhpur, Jaipur, Chittor, Bikaner and . . . and . . . Bundi!’ Feluda glanced at his watch and sprang to his feet. It took him exactly three and a half minutes to change from a kurta pyjama into a shirt and trousers. ‘It’s Sunday, so Fairlie Place will stay open till twelve o’clock. Let me go quickly and make our reservations,’ he said. It was one o’clock by the time Feluda returned. The first thing he did upon his return was to look up Hemanga Hajra’s phone number in the directory and ring him. When I asked him why he was calling someone who was out of town, Feluda said, ‘I needed proof that what Mr Dhar told us was true.’ ‘And did you get it?’ ‘Yes.’ After lunch, Feluda spent the whole afternoon stretched on his bed, a pillow tucked under his chest, going through five different books. Two of them were Pelican books on parapsychology. Feluda said he had borrowed them from a friend. Of the others, one was Todd’s book on Rajasthan, the second was called A Guide to India, Pakistan, Burma and Ceylon, and the third was a book on Indian history, but I can’t remember who wrote it. In the evening, when we’d had our tea, Feluda said, ‘Get ready, we’re going out. We need to visit Mr Dhar.’ By this time, I had told Baba about our plans. He was very pleased to hear that we were going to Rajasthan. He had been there twice in his childhood with my grandfather. ‘Don’t miss Chittor,’ he told me. ‘The fort in Chittor is quite awe-inspiring. It’s easy enough to guess what made the Rajputs such brave warriors.’ We arrived at Mr Dhar’s house at around half past six. When he heard that Feluda was prepared to go to Rajasthan, Mr Dhar looked both relieved and grateful. ‘I do not know how to thank you!’ he exclaimed. ‘It isn’t yet time to start thanking me, Mr Dhar. You must assume that we are going purely as tourists, not because you asked us to. Anyway, we have very little time. There are two things we need. One is a photo of your son. The other is a chat with Neelu, that boy who was kidnapped.’ ‘Let me see what I can do. Usually, Neelu is never at home in the evenings, especially now that Puja is round the corner. But I don’t think that today he’ll be allowed to go out on his own. Wait, I’ll get that photo.’

Shivratan Mukherjee, the solicitor, lived only three houses away, on the