‘God, just look at my face!’ Lalmohan Babu exclaimed, peering into his shaving mirror. Our faces looked just the same. We were all covered with mosquito bites. ‘I should have warned you,’ Tulsi Babu remarked. ‘Mosquitoes are a big menace here. In fact, they are the only drawback of Gosaipur.’ ‘No,’ Lalmohan Babu said, ‘not the whole village, surely? I would say it’s just that garden the Malliks own. That’s where most of the mosquitoes breed, that’s where they are the most vicious.’ We were back in our room after lunch. The police had arrived and started their investigation. Feluda had lapsed into silence once more. Perhaps Jeevanlal’s murder was so totally unexpected that it had thrown all his calculations haywire. If Jeevanlal had been killed by burglars, the police were in a far better position to track them down. Feluda could hardly do anything on his own. The inspector in charge—a man called Sudhakar Pramanik—had already talked to him. He had heard of Feluda, but did not seem to have a great deal of regard for him. He was particularly cross about the disappearance of the body. ‘You amateur detectives simply do not believe in systems and methods, do you?’ he said irritably ‘I know your sort, I have had to work with private detectives before. If you had to leave the body, why didn’t you get someone to guard it? Now we have to dredge the pond at the back. If that doesn’t work, then we have to do the same to all the other ponds and lakes here . . . and there are eleven of them. It’s all your fault, Mr Mitter. You really shouldn’t have rushed off, leaving the body unattended.’ Feluda heard him in silence, without saying a word to defend himself. What he did say after a while irritated the inspector even more. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ Feluda asked. Inspector Pramanik stared at him, then shook his head and said, ‘I had heard you took your work seriously. Now it’s obvious that is not the case.’ ‘I had to ask you,’ Feluda explained, ‘because if you cannot catch the killer, I have to turn to Mr Bhattacharya. Perhaps he can contact Jeevanlal Mallik’s spirit? Surely the spirit of the dead man will be able to reveal the truth?’ ‘Do you admit defeat, Mr Mitter? Are you giving up?’ ‘No. I cannot continue with my investigation . . . yes, I admit that . . . but if Mr Bhattacharya helps me, I can bring the culprit to justice. Of that I am certain.’ ‘Can you tell the difference between a dead man and a live one?’ ‘Mr Pramanik, I don’t think I need answer all your questions, especially since I have no wish to join the police force. If I am talking of ghosts and spirits, it’s only because my methods are quite different from yours.’ ‘Oh? Have you no reason to suspect Bholanath?’

‘My only suspicion—no, my fear—is that you will arrest him immediately simply because you have heard his family history and you think he had a motive. If you do that, Inspector, you will be making a big mistake.’ The inspector laughed and stood up. ‘Do you know what your problem is?’ he said, clicking his tongue with annoyance. ‘You see complications when there are none. This is a very simple case. Just think for a moment. Isn’t it obvious whoever opened that chest knew where the key was kept? Had it been an ordinary burglar, surely he’d have broken it open? Bholanath took the money and was running away with it, when Jeevanlal caught up with him. Bholanath might not have planned to kill him, but was obliged to. Then he went off to call you, so that suspicion did not fall on him. He says he, too, was tied up, and Jeevanlal came and untied him. But can he prove it? How do we know he is not lying through his teeth?’ ‘Very well. But where did all that money go? What did Bholanath do with it?’ ‘We have to look for it, Mr Mitter. Once we find the body, we’ll arrest Bholanath. He’ll talk . . . oh yes, he’ll tell us everything, never fear.’ I did not like to think of Bholanath Babu as the culprit, but what the inspector said made sense to me. What I could not understand was why Feluda was brushing it off. Just as the inspector began climbing down the stairs, he called after him, ‘Jeevanlal’s spirit will talk tonight in Mr Bhattacharya’s house. You may learn a thing or two, if you come!’ Tulsi Babu was the only one who appeared more concerned with the reception the next day than with Jeevanlal’s spirit. If the killer was not caught by then, the reception would have to be cancelled. Naturally, no one would be in the right mood for songs and speeches. Lalmohan Babu had accepted this, and was heard saying, ‘I don’t mind at all. After all, I sell murder mysteries, don’t I? Here I’ve got a real murder, and a real mystery. If I can’t have a reception, who cares?’ He said this, but couldn’t get the idea of a reception out of his mind. I caught him, more than once, muttering lines from his speech and then quickly checking himself. ‘Could you please tell Mr Bhattacharya that we’d be calling on him this evening?’ Feluda said to Tulsi Babu. ‘Tell him we cannot wait in a queue with his other clients. He must give us top priority.’ This time, Tulsi Babu realized that Feluda was absolutely serious about consulting Mr Bhattacharya. He looked very surprised. ‘I have done all I could,’ Feluda told him. ‘Now I cannot proceed without Mr Bhattacharya’s help.’ I thought again about what he had told me about keeping an open mind. There were dozens of occurrences every day, all over the world, that could not be explained by scientists. That did not