It was only when I was seated in the auto rickshaw that I realized my mistake. I’d forgotten my instructions. The matrimonial ad had mentioned that the woman was twenty-nine, not twenty-eight. That meant a rendezvous at Swiss Cheese Garden, not Dorabjee’s. And the appointed hour was 3:30, not 11:00 a.m.

I’d have to come up with a fresh excuse to get away after lunch. I wasn’t worried about Willy buying my story. It was Sushmita. She was already annoyed and disappointed and suspicious of my behavior. It was no use wishing I could bring her in on my secret. I couldn’t. So I debated whether to go back to the bungalow for lunch or stay away until my meeting at Swiss Cheese Garden. In the end, I went back and expressed a desire to give my hosts a break from my company. I knew she didn’t buy it.

Sushmita appeared wounded to the core when I said I was heading out for another walk.

“Our Danny doesn’t love us anymore, Willy,” she said.

“What? Doesn’t love us anymore?” he asked.

“It isn’t that. It’s just … Well, you two are difficult to shop for. I’d like to find something sweet for you.”

Willy removed his glasses and looked up at me. “What is this? You must not talk this way, Danny Boy. No spending money on us.”

Sushmita smoldered. She knew I was lying.

Ranjit was waiting for me at a table outside under the canopy, sipping a nonalcoholic beverage. I sat at a nearby table with my back to him, figuring that’s how things were done in this business.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “You look foolish. Get over here.”

I slid into the seat opposite him. We were the only people there. Maybe it was more a dinner place, but we weren’t eating anyway.

A foreign woman—blonde with a German accent—arrived to take my order. I asked for a club soda.

“How are you managing?” asked Ranjit.

“All right.”

“Anything to report?”

“Just my trip to Nepal.”

“You went to Nepal? Why didn’t you let us know?”

I explained the rushed departure.

“Okay. Tell me.”

I gave him the full report, from the surprise request to the sneaking impression that it had been a test.

“That sounds right,” said Ranjit. “Why would he trust you for something important?”

“Thanks, pal.”

“We barely trust you. Why should he? So what did he want you to do in Kathmandu?”

I fiddled with my hands and looked around the empty place for inspiration. At length, I had to come clean.

“He gave me a bag of brassieres to deliver to a souvenir shop.”

“Brassieres? To a souvenir shop?”

“More of a head shop, really.”