Feluda handed over the blue attaché case before he sat down. The smile on Mr Dhameeja’s face did not falter. Our attempt at deception was thus rewarded with complete success.

‘Thank you so much. I’ve got Mr Lahiri’s case and kept it handy.’

‘Please check the contents in your case,’ said Feluda with a slight smile.

‘If you say so,’ replied Mr Dhameeja, laughing, and opened the case. Then he ran his eyes over the items we had so carefully placed in it and said, ‘Yes, everything’s fine, except that these newspapers are not mine.’

‘Not yours?’ asked Feluda, retrieving the two English dailies.

‘No, and neither is this.’

Mr Dhameeja returned the box of betel-nuts, which had been filled at the Kalka railway station. ‘Oh, I see,’ said Feluda. ‘Those must have got there by mistake.’

Well, at least it proved that Mr Dhameeja knew nothing about the diamond. But, in that case, how did the box get inside the attaché case?

‘And here is Mr Lahiri’s case,’ said Mr Dhameeja, picking up an identical attaché case from a side table and handing it over to Feluda. ‘May I,’ he added, ‘make the same request? Please check its contents.’

‘There’s really only one thing Mr Lahiri is interested in. A bottle of enterovioform tablets.’

‘Yes, it’s there.’

‘… And, a manuscript?’

‘Manuscript?’

Feluda had opened the case. A brief glance even from a distance told me that there was not even a scrap of paper in it, let alone a whole manuscript.

Feluda was frowning deeply, staring into the open attaché. ‘What manuscript are you talking about?’ asked Mr Dhameeja.

Feluda said nothing. I could see what a difficult position he was in; either Mr Dhameeja had to be accused of stealing, or we had to take our leave politely, without Shambhucharan’s tale of Tibet.

Mercifully, Mr Dhameeja continued to speak. ‘I am very sorry, Mr Mitter, but that attaché case now contains exactly what I found in it when I opened it in my room in the Grand Hotel. I searched it thoroughly in the hope of finding its owner’s address. But there was nothing, and certainly not a manuscript. On my return to Simla, I kept it locked in my own cupboard. Not for a second did anyone else touch it. I can guarantee that.’

After a speech like that, there was very little that Feluda could do. He rose to his feet and said with a slightly embarrassed air, ‘It must be my mistake, then. Please don’t mind, Mr Dhameeja. Thank you very much for your help. We should perhaps now be making a move.’

‘Why? Allow me at least to offer you a cup of tea. Or would you prefer coffee?’

‘No, no, nothing, thank you. It’s getting late. We really ought to go. Good-bye.’