Although this was my second visit, I still felt startled and strangely moved by the sight of the ghats and the streets of Benaras. We checked in at the Calcutta Lodge, where we had stayed before. Niranjan Chakravarty was still the manager there. When Feluda asked him if he had a vacant room, he said, ‘For you, sir, I will always be able to find a room. How long do you want it for?’ ‘I don’t really know. Let’s say a week.’ We were given a mini dormitory, like the last time. It had four beds in it, but the fourth was unoccupied. Since we had already had breakfast on the train, Feluda wanted to get cracking immediately. ‘What exactly are you suggesting we do, Felu Babu? Walk straight into the lion’s den?’ Lalmohan Babu wanted to know. ‘Yes, but you don’t have to come with us, if you’d rather stay here.’ ‘No, no, of course not. We are the Three Musketeers, remember?’ We had to pass the temple of Vishwanath to get to Maganlal’s house. The sights and the smells were very familiar. Nothing had changed in the past few years. Perhaps nothing would, even in the future. We left the temple behind us and reached a relatively quiet spot. It all came back to me quite clearly. A left turn from here would take us to Maganlal’s house. ‘Have you decided what you’re going to say?’ Lalmohan Babu asked. ‘No. I don’t always prepare and rehearse my lines. Sometimes it’s best to play things by the ear.’ ‘Is that what you want to do this time?’ ‘Yes.’ Here was Maganlal’s house, with paintings of two armed guards by the front door. They were standing as before, with their swords raised high, but their colour seemed to have faded a little. We slipped in through the open door and stood in the courtyard. ‘Koi hai?’ Feluda shouted. When no one answered, he said, ‘All right, let’s go upstairs. We must meet the man, so there’s no point in waiting here.’ Maganlal’s room was on the second floor. I remembered we had had to climb forty-six steps to get there. No one stopped us on our way. As we reached the second floor and emerged at one end of a long passage, we found a man sitting near the stairs, rubbing tobacco leaves in his hand. He gave us a startled look. ‘Who are you looking for?’ he asked. ‘Seth Maganlal. Is he here?’ ‘Yes, but he’s having his lunch. Why don’t you wait in his drawing room? I’ll show you where it is.’

We followed the man into a room that I recognized instantly. This was where Maganlal had made a knife-thrower throw large, vicious looking knives around Lalmohan Babu, who had fainted at the end of the ‘show’. Then, when we met him later in Kathmandu, he had dropped LSD into Lalmohan Babu’s tea. Fortunately, our Jatayu came to no harm, but the whole episode had caused us a great deal of anxiety. ‘Felu Babu,’ said Jatayu as soon as we were seated. ‘Please decide what you’re going to say. I can’t think of anything at all.’ ‘Don’t let that worry you. You are not required to speak. I am.’ ‘Did you bring that thing with you?’ ‘That thing’ clearly meant Feluda’s revolver. ‘Yes, I did. Do try to calm yourself. It’s very difficult to tackle a tricky situation like this if one of my companions starts showing his nervousness.’ Lalmohan Babu did not say anything after this. We continued to wait for what seemed like ages. A wall clock ticked away, from somewhere came the sound of a drum, and I could smell food being cooked. Where was Maganlal? ‘How long does he take to finish a meal?’ Lalmohan Babu sighed impatiently. Almost immediately, a man entered the room. Judging by his size and bulging muscles, he was a wrestler. He went straight to Feluda and said, ‘Stand up.’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘I have to search you.’ ‘Who’s told you to do that?’ ‘The master.’ ‘Maganlal?’ ‘Yes.’ Feluda made no attempt to rise. The man caught him by his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. There did not seem to be any point in putting up a resistance, for the man was far stronger than Feluda. The first thing that he found was the revolver. This was followed by Feluda’s wallet and handkerchief. Then he turned to Lalmohan Babu and myself. Our pockets yielded no weapons. Finally, the man returned everything to us, except the revolver which he took away at once. His departure was followed by the sound of someone clearing his throat outside the room. A second later, Maganlal came in. ‘Why are you hounding me like this, Mr Mitter?’ he demanded, sitting down on a mattress. ‘Haven’t you learnt your lesson? What good is it going to do, anyway? You’ll never get that pearl back.’ ‘You consider yourself very clever, don’t you Maganlalji?’ ‘Sure, and so do you. I couldn’t have run my business so successfully if I didn’t have the brains, could I? If I wasn’t clever, Mr Mitter, I could not have brought that pearl straight out of your bedroom.’ ‘Oh? And what pearl would that be?’

‘The pink pearl!’ Maganlal shouted, sounding intensely annoyed. ‘Do I have to describe it to you? You know very well what I’m talking about.’ ‘No, Maganlalji,’ Feluda said slowly, with unruffled calm. ‘There is something you don’t know. That pearl is a white pearl—a cheap, cultured white pearl, painted pink to fool you and your men who broke into my house. The real pink pearl has gone back to its rightful owner. Actually, you are not half as clever as you think.’ I listened to Feluda’s words, absolutely amazed. How could he tell so many lies with a straight face? Where did he find such courage? I cast a quick glance at Lalmohan Babu. He was staring at the floor, his head bowed. ‘Is