When we returned home, I waited patiently until the afternoon; after that, my patience ran out and I couldn’t help asking Feluda, ‘There was a piece of paper in Naren Biswas’s wallet. What was written on it?’ Feluda had made some enquiries and learned that Mr Biswas had been admitted to Park Hospital. He had decided to go there in the evening and return Mr Biswas’s belongings to him. My question made Feluda open his own notebook and offer it to me. ‘If you can make any sense of this, you’re bound to win the Nobel Prize!’ I found the following words written on the ruled page of his notebook: B/S 141 SNB for WG Victoria & P.C. (44?) Re Victoria’s letters try MN, OU, GAA, SJ, WN To myself, I said silently, ‘I’ve just missed the Nobel Prize!’ Aloud, I said, ‘It seems the man is interested in Queen Victoria, but I can’t figure out what “Victoria & P.C.” might mean.’ ‘P.C. might stand for Prince Consort. That would be Prince Albert.’ ‘Oh. But I can’t understand anything else.’ ‘No? Surely you know the meaning of the words “for” and “try”?’ It was obvious from Feluda’s mood that he hadn’t had much luck with the words, either. To be honest, what Uncle Sidhu had said made sense. Perhaps Feluda was trying to find a mystery when there wasn’t one. But, as soon as I thought that, I remembered the half-finished cigarette, and suddenly there was a sinking feeling in my stomach. Who had run away from the graveyard on seeing us? What was he doing there, anyway, on a wet and windy evening? It had been agreed that Lalmohan Babu would collect us and take us to Park Hospital at four o’clock. He turned up on time, clutching a magazine. ‘What did I tell you, sir? Look, here’s a copy of Vichitrapatra, and here’s that article by Naren Biswas. There’s a picture of the Monument, but it’s printed rather badly.’ ‘But . . . look, the writer is called Narendra Nath Biswas, not Narendra Mohan. Is it a different man?’ ‘No,’ said Feluda, ‘I think the problem is with those visiting cards. Maybe he had them printed at some small, inefficient press that printed “N.M. Biswas” instead of “N.N”. I bet he didn’t check the proof. We found those cuttings in his wallet, and now there’s an article by Naren Biswas . . . surely it can’t be dismissed as a coincidence?’ Feluda skimmed the article quickly, then dropped the magazine on a side table. ‘His language isn’t bad, but what he’s said is nothing new. What we must find out is whether the writer is the same Naren Biswas as the one who was injured by that tree.’

Baba happened to know one of the doctors—Dr Shikdar—at Park Hospital. He had visited our house a couple of times, so he knew Feluda. Only five minutes after Feluda sent his card in, we were summoned into Dr Shikdar’s office.