‘Jai Baba Vishwanath!’ I couldn’t see the look on Lalmohan Babu’s face, but I could tell from his voice how he felt. ‘Do you really have a lot of faith in Vishwanath?’ asked Feluda. I couldn’t imagine how he could speak so lightly. ‘Jai Baba Felunath!’ whispered Lalmohan Babu. ‘That’s better!’ We were groping our way upstairs, climbing a series of stairs that were amazingly high. Everything was in total darkness. The man who had come to fetch us hadn’t bothered to bring a light. Lalmohan Babu was still muttering under his breath. I caught the word ‘black hole’ a couple of times. At last, we reached the top floor. Our emissary passed through a door. We followed him. He then took us through a room, a narrow passage, another chamber, and finally stopped before a small door, motioning us to go in. We stepped into the room. At first I could see nothing except some coloured glass. Then I realized I was looking at a window. The light from outside was shining through its colourful panes. ‘Namaskar, Mr Mitter,’ said a deep, gruff voice. A few things became visible. A thick mattress, covered with a white sheet, was spread on the floor. On it were four bolsters, also covered in white. The figure that sat leaning on one of these was that of the man we had seen from the rear at Abhay Chakravarty’s house. With a faint click, a light on the ceiling came on. We were finally face to face with Maganlal Meghraj. The eyes that regarded us solemnly were sunk in, set under thick, bushy eyebrows. A blunt nose, thick lips and a pointed chin completed the picture. He too was wearing a kurta-pyjama. The buttons on his kurta might well have been diamonds. Besides these, on eight of his ten fingers flashed other stones of every possible colour. ‘Why are you standing? Do sit down,’ he invited. ‘Take a chair, if you like.’ There were low, Gujarati chairs placed by the side of the mattress. We took three of these. ‘I wanted to meet you, Mr Mitter. I would have invited you properly, but luckily you came here yourself.’ After a moment’s pause he added, ‘You may not know me, Mr Mitter, but I know all about you.’ ‘I have heard your name,’ Feluda replied politely. ‘You’re pretty well known yourself.’ ‘Well known?’ Maganlal laughed loudly, displaying paan-stained teeth. ‘Not well known, Mr Mitter. What you mean is infamous. Notorious. Come on, admit it!’ Feluda remained silent. Maganlal’s eyes turned towards me. ‘Is this your brother?’ ‘My cousin.’ ‘And who is this? Your uncle?’ Maganlal was smiling.

‘This is my friend, Lalmohan Ganguli.’ ‘Very good! Lalmohan, Mohanlal, Maganlal . . . it’s all just the same, isn’t it? What d’you say, eh?’ Lalmohan Babu had been shaking his legs with an ‘I-don’t-feel-nervous-at-all’ air. Maganlal’s words made his knees knock against each other. At this point, Maganlal suddenly brought his hand down on a bell, making