Feluda did not say anything. Mr Pakrashi paused for breath, then continued, ‘I don’t know what you’d make of it as a sleuth. I find the whole thing distinctly suspicious. Anyway, if you wish to go on a wild-goose chase, suit yourself. I cannot offer any help. I told you on the phone I have about three of those Air-India bags, but on this trip I didn’t take any with me.’

‘One of the other passengers knew you, didn’t he?’

‘Who, Brijmohan? Yes. He is a moneylender. I’ve had a few dealings with him.’

‘Could he have had a blue case?’

‘How on earth should I know?’ Mr Pakrashi frowned darkly.

‘Could you give me Brijmohan’s telephone number?’

‘Look it up in the directory. S. M. Kedia & Co. SM was Brijmohan’s father. Their office is in Lenin Sarani. And one more thing—you’re wrong in thinking I knew only one of the other passengers. As a matter of fact, I knew two of them.’

‘Who’s the second one?’ Feluda sounded surprised.

‘Dinanath Lahiri. I had seen him before at the races. He used to be quite a lad. Now I believe he’s changed his lifestyle and even found himself a guru in Delhi. Heaven knows if any of this is true.’

‘What about the fourth man in your coach?’ asked Feluda. He was obviously trying to gain as much information as he could.

‘What’s going on?’ shouted Mr Pakrashi, pulling a face, in spite of the pipe still hanging from his mouth. ‘Are you here simply to ask questions? Am I an accused standing trial or what?’

‘No, sir,’ said Feluda calmly. ‘I am asking these questions only because you play chess all by yourself, you clearly have a sharp brain, a good memory, and….’

Mr Pakrashi thawed a little. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Chess has become an addiction. The partner I used to play with is no more. So now I play alone.’

‘Every day?’

‘Yes. Another reason for that is my insomnia. I play until about three in the morning.’

‘Do you never take a pill to help you sleep?’

‘I do sometimes. But it doesn’t always help. Not that it matters. I go to bed at three, and rise at eight. Five hours is good enough at my age.’

‘Is typing also … one of your addictions?’ Feluda asked with his lopsided smile.

‘No, but there are times when I do like to do my own typing. I have a secretary, who’s pretty useless. Anyway, you were talking about the fourth passenger, weren’t you? He had sharp features, was quite bald, a non-Bengali, spoke very good English and offered me an apple. I didn’t eat it. What else would you like to know? I am fifty-three and my dog is three-and-a-half. He’s a boxer and doesn’t like visitors to stay for more than half an hour. So …’