7/1 Ballygunj Park stood with clear and visible signs of age and decay. Naturally, if its owners had had the means to remove those signs, they would have done so. It could only mean that the Dattas were not doing all that well financially. If there was a garden, it was possibly at the back. The front of the house had a circular grassy patch, in the middle of which stood a disused fountain. Gravelled paths ran from the grassy patch to the porch. A marble plaque on the front gate said, Golok Lodge. That appeared to intrigue Feluda. Subir Datta explained that his grandfather was called Golok Bihari Datta. It was he who had had the house built. Inside, Golok Lodge still bore signs of its past elegance. Three steps from the porch led to a marble landing. A marble staircase to its left went to the first floor. Through an open door in front of me, I could see a corridor which ran alongside the two flats which were let. To the left of this corridor was a huge hall, which the Dattas had retained. At one time, lively parties had been held in it. We were taken to the living room upstairs, which was directly above the hall. Hanging from the ceiling was a chandelier, wrapped in a cloth. Its main stem had several branches, but clearly it was never going to be lit again. On one of the walls hung a huge mirror set in a gilded frame. Subir Datta told us it had come from Belgium. There was a thick carpet on the floor, but it was so badly worn in many places that, through those gaps, the marble floor was exposed. It was chequered, like a black and white chessboard. Mr Datta switched on a lamp, which dispelled some of the darkness. As we were about to sit down, we heard a noise in the passage outside. Tap, tap, tap, tap! It was a combination of a pair of slippers and a stick. The sound stopped just outside the threshold, then the owner of the stick entered the room. We remained standing. ‘I heard some new voices. So these are our visitors?’ The man had a deep, mellow voice that seemed to go very well with his height, which must have been around six feet. All his hair was white and a little dishevelled. He was wearing a fine cotton kurta and silk pyjamas. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. The explosion had affected not just his eyes, but also other parts of his face. Even in the dim light of the lamp, we could see that clearly. Subir Datta went forward to help his brother. ‘Sit down, Dada.’ ‘Yes. Ask our guests to sit down first.’ ‘Namaskar,’ said Feluda. ‘My name is Prodosh Mitter. On my left is my cousin, Topesh.’ ‘Namaskar!’ I said gently. It would have been a bit pointless to raise my hands since Nihar Datta could not see me.

‘Mr Mitter is possibly as tall as myself, and his cousin is five feet seven inches, or may be seven and a half?’ ‘I am five seven,’ I said quickly, silently applauding Nihar Datta for his accurate guesses. ‘Please sit down, both of you,’ Nihar Datta sat down himself, without taking any assistance from his brother. ‘Have you ordered tea?’ ‘Yes, I have,’ replied Subir Datta. Feluda got straight down to business, as was his wont. ‘When you were doing your research, you had a partner, didn’t you?’ Subir Datta moved restlessly in his chair, which implied that he knew about the partner, and was perhaps feeling a little awkward for not having told us. ‘No, I wouldn’t call him a partner,’ said Nihar Datta. ‘He was my assistant, Suprakash Choudhury. He had been a student in America, but he could not have got much further without my help.’ ‘Do you know where he is, or what he’s doing now?’ ‘No.’ ‘Didn’t he stay in touch with you after the accident?’ ‘No. He lacked concentration. Biochemistry wasn’t his only interest in life—he had various other distractions.’ ‘What caused the explosion? Negligence?’ ‘I was never negligent, or careless. Not consciously.’ The tea arrived. The atmosphere in the room had turned sombre. I cast a sidelong glance at Subir Datta. He, too, seemed a little tense. Feluda was looking straight at Nihar Datta’s dark glasses. There were samosas and sweets to go with the tea. I picked up a plate. Feluda did not appear interested in the food at all. He lit a Charminar and said, ‘So your research remained incomplete? I mean, no one else did anything after—?’ ‘If anyone had done any useful work in that subject, I would certainly have heard about it.’ ‘Do you happen to know for sure that Suprakash did not do any further research afterwards?’ ‘Look, all I know is that there is no way he could have proceeded without my notes. The notes related to the last stages of my research were kept safely in my own personal locker. No one from outside could have had access to them. All those papers came back to India with me, and I have now got them. If I could complete my research, Mr Mitter, I know one thing for sure. It wouldn’t have been difficult to win the Nobel Prize. Treatment for cancer would have been revolutionized!’ Feluda picked up his cup. By that time, I had already sipped the tea and realized that it was of such high quality that even Feluda— who was always fussy about his tea—was going to be satisfied with it. But I didn’t get the chance to see his face when he took his first sip. The light suddenly went out. Loadshedding. ‘Over the last few days, we’ve been having a power cut about this time in the evenings,’ said Subir Datta, leaving his chair. ‘Koumudi!’ Outside, it was not yet completely dark. Subir Datta went out to look