Mr Sengupta could not go with us in the evening as he had some important work to see to. Mahitosh Babu’s friend, Shashanka Sanyal, came with us instead. Having lived in these parts for many years, he, too, seemed to have learnt a lot of about the local flora and fauna. He kept pointing out trees and plants to us, although it was quickly getting dark and not very easy to see from the back of the jeep. He had lived here for thirty years, he said. Before that, he was in Calcutta. Mahitosh Babu and he had attended the same school and college. Our jeep stopped by the side of a small river. The sun was just about to set. ‘Let’s get down for a while,’ Mr Sanyal said. ‘You’ll never get the feel, the real atmosphere in a forest from a moving jeep.’ I realized the minute we stepped out how dense and quiet the forest was. There was no noise except the gently rippling river and the birds going back to roost. Had there not been a man carrying a rifle, I would certainly have felt uneasy. This man was called Madhavlal. He was a professional shikari. When shikaris from abroad used to come here, it was always Madhavlal who used to act as their guide. Apparently, he knew everything about where a machaan should be set up, where a tiger was likely to be spotted, what might it mean if an animal cried out. He was about fifty, tall and well built without even a trace of fat on his body. I was very glad he had been sent with us. We walked slowly over to the sandy bank and stood on the pebbles that were spread on the ground like a carpet. After chatting with Mr Sanyal for a few minutes, Feluda suddenly asked, ‘What is the matter with Devtosh Babu? How did he happen to . . .?’ ‘Heredity. There is a history of madness in their family. Mahitosh’s grandfather went mad in his old age.’ ‘Really? Did he have to stop hunting?’ ‘Oh yes. Every firearm was removed out of sight. But, one day, he found an old sword hanging on the wall in the drawing room. He grabbed it and went into the jungle to kill yet another tiger. Rumour has it that he wanted to do what Sher Shah had done. You must have been told in your history lessons in school how Sher Shah got his title: “In his later years, he is said to have beheaded a tiger with one stroke of his sword, which earned him the title of Sher Shah”. In a fit of madness, Adityanarayan wanted to do the same.’ ‘And then?’ Lalmohan Babu asked, his eyes round and his voice hushed. ‘He never returned. This time, the tiger won. There was virtually nothing left, except his sword.’ An animal called loudly from behind a bush. Lalmohan Babu nearly jumped out of his skin. Mr Sanyal