The following morning, as soon as I emerged from our room, I heard a familiar voice say, ‘Good morning!’ It was Jatayu. Feluda was already seated on a chair on the corridor outside, waiting for his tea. Jatayu glanced round excitedly and said, ‘Oh! This is such a thrilling place, Mr Mitter! Full of powerfully suspicious characters.’ ‘You are unharmed, I hope?’ Feluda asked. ‘Oh yes. I feel fitter than ever. This morning, you know what I did? I challenged the manager of our lodge to an arm-wrestle. But the fellow didn’t accept.’ Then he came a little closer and whispered, ‘I have a weapon in my suitcase!’ ‘A catapult?’ ‘No, sir. A Nepali dagger, straight from Kathmandu. If I’m attacked, I’m going to stab my attacker with it—push it straight into his stomach, I tell you. Then let’s see what happens. I’ve always wanted to build up a collection of weapons, you know.’ I wanted to laugh again, but my self-control was getting better, so I managed to stop myself. Lalmohan Babu sat down on the chair next to Feluda and asked, ‘What’s your plan today? Aren’t you going to see the fort?’ ‘Yes, but not the fort in Jodhpur. We’re going to Bikaner.’ ‘Bikaner? Why Bikaner?’ ‘We’ve got company. Somebody’s arranged a car.’ Another voice said ‘Good morning!’ from a different part of the corridor. Mr Globetrotter was walking towards us. ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked. I caught Lalmohan Babu casting admiring glances at Mandar Bose’s handsome moustache and muscular physique. Feluda introduced him to Mr Bose. ‘Good heavens, a globetrotter!’ Lalmohan Babu’s eyes widened. ‘I must cultivate you, dear sir. You must have had a lot of hair-raising experiences!’ ‘Plenty, I can assure you. The only thing that I have missed is being boiled in a cannibal’s cooking pot. Apart from that, I have had virtually every experience a man can possibly have.’ Suddenly, I noticed Mukul. I hadn’t seen him come out on the corridor. He was standing quietly in a corner, staring at the garden. Then Dr Hajra appeared, dressed and ready to go out. A flask was slung from one shoulder; from the other hung binoculars, and around his neck was the strap of his camera. He said, ‘It will take us almost four and a half hours to get there. If you have a flask, take it with you. God knows if we’ll get anything to drink on the way. But I’ve told the dining hall to give us four packed lunches.’ ‘Where are you off to?’ asked Mandar Bose.

On being told where we were going, he became all excited. ‘Why don’t we all go together?’ he asked. ‘What a good idea!’ exclaimed Lalmohan Babu. Dr Hajra looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Well then, how many are actually going?’ he enquired. ‘Look, there’s no question of all of us going in one car,’ Mr Bose reassured him. ‘I will arrange another taxi. I think Mr Maheshwari would also like to go with me.’ ‘Are you going, too?’ Dr Hajra asked Lalmohan Babu. ‘If I go, I’ll pay my share. I don’t want anyone else to pay for me. Tell you what, why don’t you four go in one taxi? I’ll go with Mr Globetrotter.’ Obviously, Jatayu wanted to hear a few stories from Mr Bose and perhaps get ideas for a new plot. He had already written at least twenty-five adventure stories. To be honest, his remark made me feel quite relieved. Five in one car would have been cramped and uncomfortable. Mr Bose spoke to the manager and booked a second taxi. Lalmohan Babu returned to New Bombay Lodge. ‘Please pick me up on your way,’ he said before he departed. ‘I’ll be ready in half an hour.’ Before I describe anything else about our visit to Bikaner, perhaps I ought to mention that Mukul rejected the fort there as soon as he saw it. But that was not the highlight of our visit. Something far more important happened in Devikund, which proved that we were truly up against a ferocious foe. Nothing much happened on the way to Bikaner, except that we saw a group of gypsies. They were camping by the roadside. Mukul asked us to stop, got out of the car and roamed amongst the gypsies for a while. Then he returned and declared that he knew those people. After that, Feluda and Dr Hajra spoke about Mukul for a few minutes. I cannot tell whether he heard the conversation from the front seat. If he did, his demeanour gave nothing away. ‘Dr Hajra,’ Feluda began, ‘when Mukul talks of his previous life, what exactly does he say?’ ‘He mentions one thing repeatedly—a golden fortress. His house was apparently near that fortress. Gold and jewels were buried under the ground in that house. From the way he talks, it seems as if he was present when the treasure was buried. Apart from that, he talks of a battle. He says he saw a large number of elephants, horses, soldiers, guns, cannons—there was a lot of noise, and people were screaming. And he talks of camels. Says he’s ridden camels. Then he talks of peacocks. Once a peacock had attacked him, pecked his hand so hard that it began bleeding. There’s something else he mentions frequently. Sand. Haven’t you noticed how animated he becomes when he sees sand?’ We reached Bikaner at a quarter to twelve. The road began going uphill a little before we reached the city, which was surrounded by a wall, on top of the hill. The most striking building there was a huge fort, made of red sandstone. Our car drove straight to the fort. As it got closer, the fort appeared to grow bigger. Baba was right. The appearance of the forts in Rajasthan was a good indicator of the might of the Rajputs. As soon as our taxi drew up at the entrance, Mukul said, ‘Why have we stopped here?’ Dr Hajra asked