It had taken us barely half an hour to collect most of the things we needed to deceive Mr Dhameeja. The only major problem was the attaché case itself.

Where could we find a blue Air-India case? We didn’t know anyone in Delhi we could ask. It might be possible to get a similar blue case in a shop—but that wouldn’t have Air-India written on it. And that would, naturally, give the whole show away.

In the end, however, in sheer desperation, we did buy a plain blue case and, clutching it in one hand, Feluda led us into the main office of Air-India.

The first person our eyes fell on was an old man, a Parsee cap on his head, sitting right next to the ‘Enquiries’ counter. On his left, resting against his chair, was a brand new blue Air-India attaché case, exactly the kind we were looking for.

Feluda walked straight up to the counter and placed his own case beside the old man’s. ‘Is there an Air-India flight to Frankfurt from Delhi?’ he asked the man behind the counter. In a matter of seconds, he got the necessary information, said, ‘Thank you,’ picked up the old man’s case and pushed his own to the spot where it had been resting and coolly walked out. Lalmohan Babu and I followed, quite speechless. Then we returned to the hotel and Feluda began to work on the attaché case. By the time he finished, no one—not even Mr Dhameeja—could have said that it was not the one we had been given by Dinanath Lahiri. The same applied to its contents.

Feluda had been staring at his notebook. Now he shut it, rose and began pacing. ‘It was just like this,’ he muttered. ‘Those four men were in a coach exactly like this …’

I have always found it difficult to tell what would attract Feluda’s attention. Right now, he was staring at the glasses that stood inside metal rings attached to the wall. Why should these be of any interest to him?

‘Can you sleep in a moving train, or can’t you?’ he asked Lalmohan Babu, rather abruptly.

‘Well, I …’ Lalmohan Babu replied, trying to suppress a giant yawn, ‘I quite like being rocked.’

‘Yes. I know the rocking generally helps one sleep. But not everyone, mind you. I have an uncle who cannot sleep a wink in a train,’ said Feluda and jumped up on the empty berth. Then he switched on the reading lamp, opened the book that was in Dhameeja’s attaché case, and turned a few pages. We had bought a second copy at a book stall in the New Delhi railway station.

Laying the book aside, Feluda stretched on the upper berth and stared up at the ceiling. It was completely dark outside. Nothing could be seen except a few flickering lights in the distance.