Heaven knows when Feluda returned home. When I got up the next morning and came downstairs, it was a quarter past seven. Feluda’s door was shut. Perhaps he was still asleep. After all, he hadn’t slept for two nights in a row. He opened his door at nine. He’d had a shower and shaved. There was not even a trace of tiredness on his face. When he saw me, he simply shook his thumb to indicate that nothing had happened during the night at the cemetery. Lalmohan Babu arrived at half-past nine. ‘See if you like it!’ he said. As promised, he had brought his grandfather’s watch. It was a silver watch, attached to a silver chain. ‘It’s beautiful!’ exclaimed Feluda, taking the watch from Lalmohan Babu. ‘At one time, Cooke- Kelvey as watchmakers were quite well known.’ ‘But it’s not what you’re after, is it?’ Lalmohan Babu asked, a hint of regret in his voice. ‘This watch was made in Calcutta.’ ‘Yes, but do you really want to give it to me?’ ‘With my blessings and my compliments. I am older than you by three and a half years, so you shouldn’t object to my blessings!’ ‘Thank you.’ Feluda wrapped the watch in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. Then he took a step towards the telephone, but before he could get to it, someone rattled the knocker on our door. I opened it to find Girin Biswas standing outside. He had dropped a hint the day before, but I had not really expected him to turn up— and so soon, at that. He was dressed to go to work, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase in his hand. ‘Please don’t mind my barging in like this,’ he said, ‘I tried calling your number, but just couldn’t get through. I must have spent at least ten minutes dialling!’ Mr Biswas sounded a bit nervous and agitated. ‘No, why should I mind.’ It’s a miracle if a telephone works, isn’t it? What brings you here?’ Mr Biswas sat on a chair. Lalmohan Babu and I went back to the divan, and Feluda took the settee. ‘I couldn’t decide who to turn to,’ Mr Biswas remarked, wiping his damp forehead with a handkerchief. ‘I haven’t got a lot of faith in the police, frankly speaking. Since you happened to visit us. . .’ ‘What is the problem?’ Mr Biswas cleared his throat. Then he said, ‘My brother was not hit by a tree.’

The next few moments passed in silence. Feluda finally broke it by saying, ‘No? What exactly happened?’ ‘He was struck deliberately. That blow to his head was an attempt to kill him.’ Calmly, Feluda took out his packet of Charminar and offered it to Mr Biswas, who declined politely. Feluda then took one out for himself, and said, ‘But your brother seems convinced that it was a tree.’ ‘That’s because he would rather die than name his son.’ ‘His own son?’ ‘Prashanta. His elder son.