‘Anyway,’ continued Mr Lahiri, ‘that manuscript does not mean very much to me. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really interested in getting my attaché case back. Besides, there was no guarantee that I would find the owner of the one that got exchanged with mine. So I gave this case to my nephew. But since last night, I have been thinking. These articles that you see before you may not be expensive, but for their owner they might have a great deal of sentimental value. Look at this handkerchief, for instance. It’s initialled “G”. Someone had embroidered the letter with great care. Who could it be? His wife? Perhaps she is no more. Who knows? Shouldn’t I try to return this attaché case to its rightful owner? I was getting worried, so I took it back from my nephew and came to you. Frankly, I don’t care if my own case does not come back to me. I would simply feel a lot more comfortable if this one could be restored to whoever owns it.’

Srinath came in with the tea. Feluda, of late, had become rather fussy about his tea. What he was now going to drink had come from the Makaibari tea estate of Kurseong. Its fragrance filled the room the instant Srinath placed the cups before us. Feluda took a sip quietly and said, ‘Did you have to open your case quite a few times in the train?’

‘No, not at all. I opened it only twice. I took the manuscript out soon after the train left Delhi, and then I put it back before going to sleep.’

Feluda lit a Charminar and blew out a couple of smoke rings.

‘So you’d like me to return this case to its owner and get yours back for you—right?’

‘Yes. But does that disappoint you? Do you think it’s all a bit too tame?’

Feluda ran his fingers through his hair. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I understand your sentiments. And I must admit that your case is different from the ones I usually handle.’

Dinanath Babu looked visibly relieved. ‘Your acceptance means a lot to me,’ he said, letting out a deep breath.

‘I shall, of course, do my best,’ Feluda replied, ‘but I cannot guarantee success. You must understand that. However, I should now like some information.’

‘Yes?’

Feluda rose quickly and went into the next room. He returned with his famous blue notebook. Then, pencil in hand, he began asking questions.

‘When did you leave Delhi?’

‘On 5 March at 6.30 p.m. I reached Calcutta the next morning at nine-thirty.’

‘Today is the 9th. So you arrived here three days ago, and you rang me yesterday.’

Feluda opened the attaché case and took out a yellow Kodak film container. As he unscrewed its lid, a few pieces of betel-nut fell out of it on the table. Feluda put one of these in his mouth and resumed speaking.