There seemed little doubt that Mr Hingorani had been killed by the man from Detecnique. The police surgeon put the time of death between 2.30 and 3.30 p.m. Our visitor had left our room at 2.45 and had told us that he would go straight to see Hingorani. It was obvious that Mr Hingorani had refused to return Tiwari’s money, and so Mr Detecnique had decided to kill him. The police found only sixty- five rupees in a drawer and a handful of coins. The only luggage in the room was a suitcase, partly filled with clothes. If indeed Mr Hingorani had carried lakhs of rupees with him, he’d have put it in a briefcase. There was no sign of a briefcase anywhere. Feluda spoke to the police and gave them a description of the man from Detecnique. ‘I couldn’t tell you his name,’ he said, ‘but if he’s taken the money, he’ll pass it on to Devkinandan Tiwari of T H Syndicate in Calcutta. I think your colleagues there ought to be informed.’ Mr Reddy had heard of the double tragedy, and was now sitting in our room. I had expected him either to throw a fit, or have a heart attack. To my amazement, he remained quite calm and began to discuss how the magic show might still go ahead, even without Nayan. ‘Suppose you concentrate more on your hypnotism?’ he said to Tarafdar. ‘I will get leading personalities—politicians, film stars, sportsmen—on the opening night. You can hypnotize each one of them. How about that?’ Mr Tarafdar shook his head sadly. ‘It’s very kind of you, Mr Reddy. But I can’t spend the rest of my life performing on your stage. I have to move on, but who will treat me with such kindness in other cities? The word has spread, everyone will expect Nayan on my show. Most theatre managers are ruthless businessmen. They wouldn’t dream of giving me a chance. I am finished, Mr Reddy.’ ‘Did Hingorani pay you anything at all?’ Feluda asked. ‘Yes, he paid me a certain sum before I left Calcutta. It was enough to cover our travel and stay here. Tomorrow, he was supposed to pay me another instalment. You see, he believed in astrology. Tomorrow, he had told me, was an auspicious day.’ Mr Reddy looked sympathetically at Mr Tarafdar. ‘I can see what you’re going through. You can’t possibly perform in your present state of mind.’ ‘It isn’t just me, Mr Reddy. My manager, Shankar, is so upset that he’s taken to his bed. I can’t manage without him, either.’ The police had left half an hour ago. A murder enquiry had been started. Every hotel and guest- house in the city was going to be asked if they had had a visitor in the recent past who fitted the description Feluda had given. Hingorani’s nephew, Mohan, had been contacted. He was expected to arrive the next day. The police had removed the body. Feluda himself was going to make enquiries about Nayan and try to find him. ‘I am relying solely on you, Mr Mitter,’ Mr Reddy said, rising. ‘I can postpone the show for a couple of days. Find our

Jyotishkam in these two days. Please!’ Mr Reddy left. A minute later, Mr Tarafdar said, ‘I think I’ll go back to my room. I’ll wait for two more days, as Mr Reddy suggested. If Nayan can’t be found, I’ll just pack my bags and go back to Calcutta. What else can I do? Will you stay on in Madras?’ ‘Well, obviously I cannot stay here indefinitely. But I’m not going to go back without getting to the bottom of this business. Why should anyone pull the wool over our eyes and be allowed to get away with it?’ ‘Very well,’ said Mr Tarafdar and went out. Feluda took a long puff at his Charminar, and then muttered a word I had heard him use before: ‘Doubts . . . doubts . . . doubts . . .’ ‘What are you feeling doubtful about?’ Lalmohan Babu asked. ‘To start with, Hingorani had been told not to open his door to a stranger. How did Mr Detecnique manage to get in? Did Hingorani know him?’ ‘He may have. Is that so surprising?’ ‘Besides, Feluda, why are you thinking only of Hingorani’s murder? Isn’t finding Nayan more important?’ ‘Yes, Topshe. I am trying to think of both Hingorani and Nayan . . . but somehow the two are getting entangled with each other in my mind.’ ‘But that’s pure nonsense, Felu Babu! The two are totally separate incidents. Why are you allowing one to merge with the other?’ Feluda paid no attention to Lalmohan Babu. He shook his head a couple of times, and said softly, ‘No signs of struggle . . . absolutely no signs of struggle . . .’ ‘Yes, that’s what the police said, didn’t they?’ ‘Yet, it wasn’t as though the man had been murdered in his sleep.’ ‘No, of course not. Have you ever heard of anyone going to bed fully dressed, without even taking off his socks and shoes?’ ‘People do sometimes, if they are totally drunk.’ ‘But this man hadn’t been drinking. At least, not in his room. He might have gone out, of course, and returned quite sozzled.’ ‘No.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because the TV had been left on. And there was a half-finished cigarette in the ash-tray, which means someone had rung the bell while he was in the room, smoking and watching television. He stubbed his cigarette out, switched off the sound of his TV, and opened the door.’ ‘But surely he’d have wanted to know who it was before opening the door?’ ‘Yes, but if it was someone he knew, he would naturally have let him in.’ ‘Then you must assume he knew this man from Detecnique. What he probably didn’t know was that Mr Detecnique was a merciless killer.’ ‘That still doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t Hingorani resist him