On our way back from Mr Ghoshal’s house, we decided to take a short cut through an alley, away from the traffic on the main road. Here too, a few sheep and lambs were roaming about. Lalmohan Babu prodded a lamb gently with his umbrella to get it out of the way, and said, ‘Shall I tell you something, Felu Babu, about myself? You see, when I visit a new place, I like to get into the spirit of things—you know, live like the locals, act like the natives. In fact, when we were in Rajasthan, I kept thinking of myself as a Rajput. A couple of times I even put up my hand to feel my pugri, and was most surprised to find my bald dome instead!’ ‘And here? Have you been startled to discover the absence of long, matted hair like a sadhu?’ ‘No, but I must confess the thought that the whole world is but an illusion did cross my mind yesterday when we were at the ghat. Today, walking through this alley, I would have been quite happy to have a dagger hanging from my waist. It’s the atmosphere, isn’t it . . .?’ He continued to expound on his theory, but I did not pay much attention. I had caught sight of the same figure that had followed us the day before. Among the various people who were either returning from the ghat or going to it, or crowding around shops, was this man, wearing tight pyjamas that peeped out from under a purple blanket which covered the rest of his body, including his face. He was following us doggedly at a distance of about ten yards. Since Feluda had appeared quite unconcerned the previous day, I didn’t raise the matter again, but began to feel uncomfortable. Lalmohan Babu hadn’t stopped talking. ‘This business of the Ganesh is going to be complicated, as far as I can see,’ he was saying. ‘It is difficult to say whether a case is going to be complex or simple before it reaches a certain stage. Are you telling me that we have come to such a stage already?’ ‘Haven’t we?’ ‘No, not in the least.’ ‘But the real villain could not have taken it, could he?’ ‘Who are you referring to, may I ask?’ ‘Why, it’s that man called Meghlal . . . or is it Meghram? . . . You know, the man we saw where Machchli Baba’s staying? My God, I’ve never seen a man with such broad shoulders. Give him a pair of horns, and he could easily join those massive bulls Banaras is famous for!’ ‘You mean you think Maganlal Meghraj would have turned up personally to jump over the wall, steal into Ambika Babu’s room and remove the Ganesh?’ ‘Oh, I see. He would have used an agent, right?’ ‘Isn’t that far more natural? Besides, he might have threatened to get the Ganesh somehow, but that does not necessarily make him the real