‘Prabeer Babu seemed pretty well built.’

‘Yes, he has strong and broad wrists. Perhaps that’s why his voice sounds so odd. It doesn’t match his manly figure at all. Now tell me the names of the other passengers who travelled with Dinanath Lahiri.’

‘One of them was Brijmohan. And his surname was … let me see …’

‘Kedia. Marwari.’

‘Yes. He’s a moneylender. Nothing remarkable in his appearance, apparently. Knew Mr Pakrashi.’

‘He really does have an office in Lenin Sarani. I looked it up in the telephone directory.’

‘I see. Well, the other was G. C. Dhameeja. He lives in Simla. Has an orchard.’

‘So he said. We don’t know that for sure.’

‘But it is his attaché case that got exchanged with Mr Lahiri’s. Surely there is no doubt about that?’

The case in question was lying open next to Feluda’s bed. He stared absentmindedly at its contents and muttered, ‘Hmm … yes, that is perhaps the only thing one can be …’ He broke off and picked up the two English newspapers that were in the case and glanced at them. ‘These,’ he continued to mutter, ‘are the only things that … you know … make me feel doubtful. They don’t fit in somehow.’

At this point, he had to stop muttering for the phone rang. Feluda had had an extension put in his own room.

‘Hello.’

‘Is that you, Mr Mitter?’

I could hear the words spoken from the other side, possibly because it was quiet outside.

‘Yes, Mr Lahiri.’

‘Listen, I have just received a message from Dhameeja.’

‘You mean he’s replied to your telegram? Already?’

‘No, no. I don’t think I’ll get a reply before tomorrow. I am talking about a phone call. Apparently, Dhameeja had gone to the railway reservation office and got my name and address from them. But because he had to leave very suddenly, he could not contact me himself. He left my attaché case with a friend here in Calcutta. It was this friend who rang me. He’ll return my case to me if I bring Dhameeja’s. So, you see …’

‘Did you ask him if the manuscript was still there?’

‘Oh yes. Everything’s fine.’

‘That’s good news then. Your problem’s solved.’

‘Yes, most unexpectedly. I’m leaving in five minutes. I’ll collect Dhameeja’s case from you and then go to Pretoria Street.’

‘May I make a request?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Why should you take the trouble of going out? We were going to go all the way to Simla, weren’t we? So we’d quite happily go to Pretoria Street and collect your case for you. If you let me keep it tonight, I can skim through Shambhucharan’s tale of Tibet. You may treat that as my fee. Tomorrow morning I shall return both the case and the manuscript to you.’