We reached the spot where Mr Sengupta’s body had been found. The clouds having dispersed, it was much brighter today. Sunlight streamed through the leaves to form little patterns on the ground here and there. There also appeared to be many more birds chirping in the trees. Lalmohan Babu gave a start each time he heard a bird call, thinking it was an alarm call for an approaching tiger. The body had been removed the same day. Torit Babu’s family in Calcutta had been informed, and his brother had arrived to take care of the funeral. There was no sign left of that hideous incident near the bamboo grove. Even so, Feluda began inspecting the ground closely, assisted by Madhavlal. The more I saw Madhavlal, the more I liked him. He seemed a cheerful fellow. He smiled often, which made deep creases appear on both sides of his mouth. Even when he didn’t smile, his eyes twinkled. He told us on the way that the news of the man-eater had spread through people in the Forest Department. Apparently, a number of shikaris had offered to kill it. Among them was a Mr Sapru, who had killed many tigers and other animals in the Terai. He was expected to arrive the next day. Now he stopped to chat with us and began telling us stories of the many expeditions he had been on. At this moment, Feluda called him from the bamboo grove. Madhavlal stopped his tale and went forward quickly, closely followed by Lalmohan Babu and myself. Feluda had raised no objection today to our getting out of the jeep. We found him kneeling on the ground, bending over a bamboo stem. ‘Take a look at this!’ he said to Madhavlal. Madhavlal glanced at it briefly and declared, ‘It was hit by a bullet, sir.’ There was a mark on the stem which I now saw. All of us—including Feluda—felt astounded. ‘Can you tell me how old that mark might be?’ Feluda asked, a little impatiently. ‘Not older than a couple of days,’ Madhavlal replied. ‘What can it mean?’ Feluda muttered, half to himself. ‘A sword . . . a gun . . . I’m getting all confused. Torit Sengupta was struck by the sword, then someone shot at the tiger but missed, by the looks of things. Or else . . .’ he broke off. Madhavlal had found something under the bamboo. I saw what it was only when I got closer. He was clutching what looked like fluff, about two inches in length. ‘Hair from the tiger’s body?’ Feluda asked. ‘Yes, sir. The bullet must have scraped one side.’ ‘Is that why the tiger ran away without finishing its meal?’ ‘Looks like it.’ Feluda began moving forward without another word. Madhavlal followed him, rifle in hand, his eyes alert. Lalmohan Babu and I placed ourselves between these two men, which struck us as the safest thing to do. Feluda was carrying a loaded revolver, but that wasn’t enough