It was the servant called Kanai who had first noticed that the sword was missing when he went in to dust the room. He informed his master immediately. The room was not locked, since it contained several books and papers which Mahitosh Babu frequently needed to refer to. All the servants were old and trusted. Nothing had been stolen from the house for so many years that people had stopped worrying about theft altogether. What it meant was that anyone in the house could have taken the sword. Feluda examined the glass case carefully, but did not find a clue. It was just the sword that was missing. Everything else was in place. ‘I’d like to see Mr Sengupta’s bedroom, and the study where he worked,’ Feluda said when he had finished. ‘But before I do that, I need to know if you suspect anyone.’ Mahitosh Babu shook his head. ‘No, I simply cannot imagine why anyone should want to kill him. He hardly ever saw anyone outside this house. All he did was go on long walks. If that sword was used to kill him, then it has to be someone from this house who did it. No, Mr Mitter, I cannot help you at all.’ We made our way to Mr Sengupta’s bedroom. It was as large as ours. Among his personal effects were his clothes, a blue suitcase, a shoulder bag and a shaving kit. On a table were a few magazines and books, a writing pad and a couple of pencils. A smaller bedside table held a flask, a glass, a transistor radio and a packet of cigarettes. The suitcase wasn’t locked. Feluda opened it, to find that it was very neatly packed. ‘He was obviously all set to leave for Calcutta,’ he remarked, closing it again. Five minutes later, we came out of the bedroom and went into his study. ‘What exactly did his duties involve?’ Feluda asked Mahitosh Babu. ‘Well, he handled all my correspondence. Then he made copies of my manuscripts, since my own handwriting is really quite bad. He used to go to Calcutta and speak to my publishers on my behalf, and correct the proofs. Of late, he had been helping me gather information about my ancestors to write a history of my family. This meant having to go through heaps of old letters and documents, and making a note of relevant details.’ ‘Did he use these notebooks to record all the information?’ Feluda asked, pointing at the thick, bound notebooks neatly arranged on a desk. Mahitosh Babu nodded. ‘And are these the proofs for your new book he was correcting?’ Stacks of printed sheets were kept on the desk, next to the notebooks. Feluda picked up a few sheets and began leafing through them. ‘Tell me, was Mr Sengupta a very reliable proof-reader?’ Mahitosh Babu looked quite taken aback by the question. ‘Yes, I think so. Why do you ask?’ ‘Look, there’s a mistake in the first paragraph of the