A shower and a cup of tea refreshed me physically, but I felt too restless to sit still. Feluda had now officially begun his investigation. Puri, like so many other places we had gone to on holiday, had given us a mystery to work on. Knowing Feluda’s calibre and his past performance, I was sure we would not go back disappointed. But, I wondered, would Feluda get paid for his pains? After all, no one had actually hired him in this case. Not that it mattered. If the case was challenging enough and if he got the chance to exercise his brain, Feluda did not really care about money. ‘Who do you suspect, Tapesh?’ asked Lalmohan Babu. Unable to remain in his own room, he had joined me in mine and was pacing up and down, holding his hands behind him. I said, ‘Well, Nishith Bose had free access to the manuscripts, so he ought to be the prime suspect. But for that reason alone, I don’t think he did it. Then there’s Mr Hingorani. Didn’t he say he wouldn’t give up easily? And there’s Bilas Majumdar. He might have stolen it to settle old scores. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to forgive and forget, after all. But Laxman Bhat—’ ‘No, no, no!’ Lalmohan Babu interrupted, protesting violently, ‘Don’t drag Laxman Bhattacharya into this, please. He couldn’t possibly be involved in theft. Why should he even dream of it? Just think of his special power!’ ‘Well then, what are your own views on this?’ I asked him. ‘I think the most important man is missing from your list.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Mr Sen himself.’ ‘What! Why should he steal his own property?’ ‘No, I’m not saying he stole anything. I mean, not this time. That manuscript was stolen, anyway, as Mr Hingorani said. So Mr Sen has sold it to him, for twenty-five thousand; and he’s saying it’s been stolen, to remove suspicion from himself. Don’t you see, now if anyone asks for that particular manuscript, he has a valid reason for saying he hasn’t got it?’ Could this be true? It seemed “a bit far-fetched, but . . . I could think no further, for a room boy arrived at this moment and said there was a phone call for us. It had to be Feluda. I ran downstairs and took the call. ‘Yes?’ ‘Did Mr Barik give you my message?’ asked Feluda’s voice. ‘Yes. But have you been able to work anything out?’ ‘Mr Bose has disappeared.’ ‘Really? Who informed the police?’ ‘I’ll tell you everything when I get back, in half an hour. How was Bhubaneshwar?’

‘Fine. We—’ I couldn’t finish. Feluda had put the phone down. I returned to my room and told Lalmohan Babu what Feluda had just said. He scratched his head and said, ‘I would like to visit the scene of the crime, but I don’t think your cousin would like that.’ We waited for another hour, but Feluda did not return. I began to