‘Shall we go down to the coffee shop?’ I suggested tentatively. ‘Hey, that’s exactly what I was going to suggest myself,’ Lalmohan Babu replied, looking pleased. We found an empty table in the coffee shop. ‘We could have some sandwiches with a cup of tea,’ Lalmohan Babu observed. ‘That’ll help us kill more time.’ ‘Two teas and two plates of chicken sandwiches, please,’ I told the waiter. I was hungry, but food didn’t seem all that important just now. Feluda had obviously seen the light. Whether it was only a glimmer, or whether he had solved the whole mystery, I didn’t know. But I began to feel elated. Lalmohan Babu found another way of killing time. He started to tell me the story of his next book. As always, he had already decided on the name. ‘I am going to call it The Manchurian Menace. It will mean reading up on China and the Chinese way of life, although my book will have nothing to do with modern China. It will be set during the time of the Mandarins.’ Soon, we finished our tea and sandwiches. Lalmohan Babu finished his story, but even so we had about ten minutes to spare. ‘What should we do now?’ he asked as we came out in the lobby. ‘Let’s go to that bookshop,’ I said. ‘After all, it’s become a sort of historic place, hasn’t it, since that’s where Nayan was seen last?’ ‘Yes, you’re right. Let’s go and have a look. Who knows, they might even have displayed copies of my books!’ ‘Er . . . I don’t think so, Lalmohan Babu.’ ‘Well, no harm in asking, is there?’ There was only one lady in the shop, sitting behind a counter. She was both young and attractive. ‘Excuse me,’ said Lalmohan Babu, walking straight up to her. ‘Yes, sir?’ ‘Do you have crime novels for . . . for . . . youngsters?’ ‘In which language?’ ‘Bengali.’ ‘No, sir, I’m afraid we don’t keep books written in Bengali. But we have lots of books for children in English.’ ‘I know. Today—in fact, this afternoon—a friend of mine bought two books from this shop for a young boy.’ The lady gave him a puzzled glance. ‘No, sir,’ she said. ‘Eh? What do you mean?’ ‘I would have remembered, sir, if someone had bought two children’s books today. I haven’t sold a single one over the last four days.’ ‘What! But he said . . . maybe some other lady . . . ?’ ‘No, sir. I handle the sales alone.’

Lalmohan Babu and I looked at each other. I looked at my watch and said, ‘Half-an-hour’s up!’ Lalmohan Babu grabbed my hand. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, dragging me out with him. He paused for a second at the doorway, turned his head and threw a ‘Thank you, Miss!’ at the lady, then broke into a run to catch a lift. ‘How very odd!’ he exclaimed, pressing a button. I said nothing. for I simply didn’t feel like talking. The few seconds it took us to reach our room seemed an eternity. ‘Feluda!’ I said, as we burst in. ‘Felu Babu!’ said Jatayu, simultaneously. ‘One at a time,’ Feluda replied sternly. ‘Let me speak,’ I went on breathlessly. ‘Shankar Babu did not go to the bookshop!’ ‘That’s stale news, my boy. Do you have anything fresh to deliver?’ ‘You mean you knew?’ ‘I did not sit around doing nothing. I went to the bookshop nearly twenty minutes ago. I spoke to Miss Swaminathan there, and then went to find you to give you the news. But when I saw you were busy gobbling sandwiches, I came away.’ ‘But in that case—?’ I began. Feluda raised a hand to stop me. ‘Later, Topshe,’ he said, ‘I’ll hear you out later. Tarafdar rang me from his room just now. He sounded pretty agitated, so I told him to come straight here. Let’s see what he has to say.’ The bell rang. I let Mr Tarafdar in. ‘Mr Mitter!’ he gave an agonized cry. ‘Save me. Oh God, please save me!’ ‘What’s happened now?’ ‘Shankar. Now it’s Shankar! I went to his room a few minutes ago, and found him lying unconscious on the floor. I can’t believe any of this any more . . . is there going to be no end to my problems?’ The reply that came from Feluda was most unexpected. ‘No, Sunil,’ he said casually, ‘this is just the beginning.’ ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Mr Tarafdar croaked. ‘My meaning is simple enough, I think. You’re still pretending to be totally innocent. You should stop the act now, Sunil. The game’s up.’ ‘I do not understand you at all, Mr Mitter. You are insulting me!’ ‘Insulting you? No, Sunil. All I’m doing is speaking the truth. In five minutes, I’m going to hand you over to the police. They’re on their way.’ ‘But what did I do?’ ‘I’ll tell you gladly. You are a murderer and a thief. That’s what I told the police.’ ‘You have gone mad. You don’t know what you’re saying.’ ‘I am perfectly aware of what I’m saying. Mr Hingorani would never have opened his door to a stranger. He did not know that man from Detecnique; and that man didn’t know him, either, which was the reason why he had brought a photo of Hingorani with him, just to make sure he spoke to the right man. So we can safely assume that Hingorani did not let him get inside his room. But you, Sunil? He knew you well enough. There was no reason for him to keep you out, was there?’

‘You are forgetting one thing, Mr Mitter. Remember what the police said? There were no signs of struggle. If I took out a knife and tried to kill him, do you think he would have let me, without putting up a fight?’ ‘Yes, he would, under a special circumstance.’ ‘What might that be?’ ‘It