Tulsi Babu and Lalmohan Babu were waiting for us. I felt immensely relieved to see electric lights again. ‘Can you imagine,’ said Lalmohan Babu, ‘even in this tiny village, I found as many as twenty people who had read more than fifty per cent of my books? Of course, many of them got them from the school library, but those who had bought a few copies had them signed by me.’ ‘Very good. I am very pleased to hear that, Lalmohan Babu.’ Tulsi Babu turned to Feluda, ‘Let’s go and call on Atmaram. We can see the Bat-kali temple tomorrow.’ ‘Bat-kali temple? What on earth is that?’ ‘Yet another local attraction. There is an old and abandoned Kali temple in the bamboo grove you just came through. It’s two hundred years old. It must have once had a statue of Kali, but it’s gone now. Dozens of bats live in it, which is why people call it the Bat-kali temple. When it was in use, it must have seen a lot of activity.’ ‘I see. By the way, does your Atmaram come from this village?’ ‘No, but he has been living here for some time. Two years ago, his special power came to light. Besides, he knows astrology and palmistry as well. People from Calcutta often come here to consult him.’ ‘Does he charge a fee?’ ‘Yes, he probably does. But I’ve never heard of him charging any of the locals. He holds seances on Mondays and Fridays. Today, we’ll just go and meet him.’ ‘All right, let’s go.’ I could see that, somehow, Mriganka Bhattacharya had become a part of Feluda’s investigation. We left the house once more. Although lights were on in every house in the vicinity, it was very dark outside, possibly because of the large number of big trees. The moon had not yet risen. Crickets and owls and jackals in the distance had started a regular concert, which made me think that, in a place like this, it was Shyamlal Mallik’s palanquin and the flickering light from his oil lamps that fitted the atmosphere far better. Lalmohan Babu whispered into my ear, declaring that he had never seen a place so full of mystery and excitement. ‘You know, Tapesh,’ he said, ‘I had thought of Guatemala as the place of action for my next novel; but now I think I will change it to Gosaipur.’ ‘Really?’ Feluda laughed, having overheard this remark. ‘But you haven’t even seen the thugee’s noose. Can you think of anything more exciting?’ ‘What are you talking about, Felu Babu?’ Feluda explained quickly. He also mentioned the anonymous note.

‘If Mr Bhattacharya got Durlabh Singh’s spirit to come and reveal the truth, you need not look any further, Mr Mitter,’ Tulsi Babu remarked ‘Shyamlal Mallik’s enemy must be in his house.’ No one said anything after this, for we had reached Mr Bhattacharya’s house. This house did not appear to have an electric connection, either. Perhaps souls found it easier to