There was something particularly eerie about the silence during the night in Benaras. This was possibly because, during the day, every street was filled with people, sounds, smells and colours. When we reached Gyan Bapi at midnight, everything was wrapped in darkness and all I could hear was a dog barking in the distance. We had to wait for about five minutes. Just as Feluda finished his cigarette and crushed its stub with his shoe, a voice called softly: ‘Mr Mitter!’ Four dark figures emerged from an alley. ‘I brought three men,’ said Motilal’s voice. ‘Are you ready?’ ‘Sure,’ Feluda whispered back. ‘We know our way. Let’s go.’ We began walking. Both Motilal and Feluda seemed to be very familiar with the way to Maganlal’s house. They were walking fast even in the dark. Only one streetlight shone in a corner. In its dim light I could see that one of Motilal’s companions was as tall and muscular as Maganlal’s man. That was obviously Manohar. We stopped at the mouth of the alley that led to Maganlal’s house. ‘Please wait here,’ Feluda said to Lalmohan Babu. ‘We’ll take about twenty minutes, I should think.’ The others left before either Lalmohan Babu or I could speak. They soon vanished from sight. We stood a little foolishly, unsure of what to do. Lalmohan Babu broke the silence after a couple of minutes. ‘I can’t imagine why your cousin had to go and get mixed up with those hooligans.’ ‘He’ll explain everything, I am sure.’ ‘I don’t like this at all.’ ‘Sh-h. I don’t think we should talk.’ Lalmohan Babu fell silent again. If I strained my ears, I could hear the sound of a harmonium and ghungrus, coming from the far distance. I looked at the sky. Millions of stars winked back at me. I had never seen quite so many of them. Now I realized there was a very faint light, perhaps being cast by all those stars. There was no moon. How long was it since we were left here waiting? Ten minutes? Fifteen? It seemed like hours. It felt strange to think that Maganlal’s house was being burgled less than fifty yards away, but there was no noise, absolutely no way of telling what was going on inside. Five minutes later, I heard footsteps coming back. Yes, it was Feluda and the others. ‘Right, let’s get back,’ he said as they got closer. ‘Mission—?’ Lalmohan Babu began breathlessly. ‘—Accomplished!’ Feluda finished his sentence. Then he turned to Motilal Boral.

‘Thank you very much for your help, Mr Boral. I’ll make sure you get your share when that pearl is sold.’ We started walking back to the hotel. The other men waved, and disappeared into the darkness. None of us spoke on the way. As soon as we were back in our room, Lalmohan Babu burst into speech, unable to contain himself a moment longer: ‘Come on, tell us what happened!’ ‘First look at this.’ Feluda took out the red velvet box from his pocket and placed it on his bed. ‘Shabaash!’ exclaimed Lalmohan Babu. ‘How did you get it? There was no violence, I hope?’ ‘Yes, there was, I am afraid. There had to be. But the only person who received a blow on his head was Maganlal’s henchman. Manohar did that. No one else was injured.’ ‘How did you open that cash box?’ ‘How is a locked object normally opened, Lalmohan Babu? I used a key.’ ‘What! Where did you get it?’ ‘From Maganlal.’ ‘How? Good heavens, what did you use? Magic?’ ‘No, sir. Not magic, but you might call it medicine. Supplied by a doctor our manager happens to know.’ ‘What nonsense are you talking, Felu Babu? What was supplied?’ ‘Chloroform,’ Feluda replied with a grin. ‘Tit for tat. Now do you understand?’ We took the Delhi Express the next evening, reaching Delhi at 6 a.m. the following day. Having stayed at Janpath Hotel during our last visit to Delhi, we went there straight from the station. Feluda began ringing various other hotels as soon as we were taken to our room. It took him ten minutes to find out where Suraj Singh was staying. ‘Yes sir, Mr Singh is staying with us,’ said a voice from Taj Hotel. ‘Room number 347.’ ‘Could I speak to him, please?’ Luckily, Suraj Singh was in his room. Feluda told him he wanted to see him regarding the pink pearl. Mr Singh agreed immediately to see us in his room at six o’clock the same evening. We spent the afternoon eating at a Chinese restaurant and looking at the shops in Janpath. Then we went back to the hotel for a rest before leaving again at a quarter to six. Feluda rang from the lobby at Taj Hotel to inform Mr Singh of our arrival. We were told to go up to his room. The man who opened the door when we rang the bell turned out to be his secretary. ‘Please sit down,’ he said. ‘Mr Singh will be with you in a minute.’ The three of us sat on a large sofa. It wasn’t really just a room, but a whole suite. We were in the sitting room. Suraj Singh appeared shortly. One look at him was enough to tell us he was immensely wealthy. He was wearing an expensive suit, a golden tie-pin and a gold pen peeped from his front pocket. On his fingers he wore more than one gold ring, studded with precious stones. He was perhaps in his mid-fifties, although only a few strands of hair at his temple had turned grey: The rest of his hair was jet black, as was the rather impressive moustache he sported. ‘Which one of you is Mr Mitter?’ he asked.

Feluda rose and introduced himself. Mr Singh nodded, but continued to stand. ‘What’s your connection with the pink pearl?’ ‘I am a private investigator. Jaichand Boral left the pearl with me for safe keeping.’ ‘Really? How do