We left for Calcutta the next morning. Prof Haldar accompanied us, but Feluda did not mention the pink pearl even once in his presence. All he said on reaching home was, ‘I wish the press hadn’t got hold of the story!’ Two days passed eventlessly. On the third day, we were both in our living room, I reading and Feluda clipping his nails, when the telephone rang. Feluda answered it, spoke briefly, then put it down. ‘That was Boral,’ he informed me. ‘Is he here in Calcutta?’ ‘Yes. He said he had to see me urgently. He is coming at half past five. He sounded both excited and disturbed. Topshe, go and call Lalmohan Babu.’ It was necessary to tell Lalmohan Babu, for he’d have been quite disappointed if we had left him out. ‘If I’m not involved right from the start, Felu Babu, I cannot understand how things develop, and then I cannot think well enough to be able to help you!’ he had once complained. Lalmohan Babu arrived at five and, exactly half an hour later, Jaichand Boral turned up, just as Srinath came in with the tea. Mr Boral looked tired and haggard. In the last couple of days, two national dailies had published the story of the pink pearl, which had clearly added to his worries. He quickly finished the glass of water Srinath offered him, then shook his head ruefully. ‘Who knew a small report in the press would create such havoc? I have to tell you three things. First, a cousin of mine—Motilal Boral—has written to me, saying that if the pearl is sold, he wants a share of the proceeds since it is a family heirloom, not just my personal property. Motilal lives in Benaras. He runs a cinema. His letter openly implies that I have tried to deceive him by never telling him about the pearl.’ ‘I see. What’s the second thing?’ ‘I received one more letter, from a man called Suraj Singh in Dharampur, which is in Uttar Pradesh. It was once a princely state. Suraj Singh appears to be a most powerful man in Dharampur for he wrote from Dharampur Palace. He says he has a huge collection of pearls, but he doesn’t have a single pink one. So he’d like to buy the one I’ve got, and wants me to name a price.’ ‘OK, what about the third thing?’ ‘That’s really the reason why I am here. It’s really worrying me, Mr Mitter. Someone actually turned up at my house the day before yesterday. I think he was a Marwari. Judging by his clothes and the number of rings he was wearing—he even had a diamond stud in one ear—he was a very wealthy man. He said he collected antiques and art objects. I guess he sells them abroad at hefty prices.’ ‘And he wanted your pearl?’

‘Oh yes. He offered me fifty thousand for it. I said I needed three days to think it over. He’s visiting Calcutta