‘Are you from Bengal?’ Dr Vaidya asked. He spoke with a funny accent. ‘Yes,’ Feluda replied. ‘Helmut has told us about you.’ ‘Helmut is a nice boy,’ Dr Vaidya nodded, ‘but I’ve had to warn him about one thing. People here don’t normally like being photographed. You see, it is their belief that if a part of a person is represented somewhere else in a different form, it reduces the vital force—the ability to live—of that person.’ ‘Do you believe this yourself?’ ‘What I believe is of no consequence, at least not to Helmut. He hasn’t stopped taking pictures, has he? Why, I have been captured in his camera, too! What I say is this: one cannot disregard anything in life without studying it, or examining it thoroughly. I still have a lot to learn.’ ‘But there’s such a lot you know already! I’ve heard you can see the future and even speak to the dead.’ ‘No, not always.’ Dr Vaidya gave a slight smile. ‘A lot depends on the immediate surroundings. But there are certain things that are fairly easy to tell. For instance, I can tell that this gentleman here is under a lot of stress,’ he pointed at Mr Sarkar, who licked his lips nervously. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Feluda said. ‘Somebody is trying to threaten him. He thinks his life is in danger. Can you tell us who is doing this?’ Dr Vaidya closed his eyes. He opened them a few seconds later and stared out of the window absently. ‘Agent,’ he said. ‘Agent?’ ‘Yes. A man must be punished for his sins. Sometimes he is punished by the Almighty. At other times, God sends His agents out to do this job.’ ‘Enough!’ shouted Mr Sarkar. His voice shook. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’ Dr Vaidya smiled again. ‘I am saying all this only because your friend asked me. If you can learn something yourself, there’s no need to go looking for a teacher. But one thing I must tell you. If you wish to live, you will have to tread most carefully.’ ‘What does that mean?’ asked Mr Sarkar. ‘I can’t say anything more than that.’ The tea arrived. Helmut poured it out and passed the cups around. ‘I believe you met Mr Shelvankar,’ said Feluda, sipping his tea. ‘Yes. It’s all very sad. I did warn him about a rough patch he might have to go through. But death? No, that’s a different matter altogether, and no one has any control over it.’ No one spoke after this. We drank our tea in silence. Helmut sorted a few papers out on his table. Mr Sarkar stared absently into space, apparently unaware that his tea was getting cold. Only Feluda

seemed totally at ease, happily finishing the biscuits that had arrived with the tea. After a while, Helmut rose to switch on a light. Daylight had almost gone by this time. But it turned out that there was a power cut. ‘I’ll get some