Mr Godwin stopped. He was breathing hard, possibly because he had talked at such length. Then he winced. His gout was clearly bothering him. But he resumed talking:

‘When I was a young man, once I went to England. My uncle was a cashier with the Midland Bank in London. Three months—that’s all I could take. I couldn’t bear the cold. I couldn’t stand the food. I was used only to Indian food. So I returned to Calcutta. Then I got married. My wife died ten years ago. Now I only have Christopher. I see him—maybe just once every day. Sometimes not even that. He stays in his room when he’s at home, and strums his guitar. Yes, he plays well.’

A peculiar noise had started above our heads. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap. It would stop from time to time, then start again. The shadows began moving, because with the noise, the light hanging from the ceiling had started to sway. Now I was feeling as frightened as Lalmohan Babu. I had never been to such a house, or seen such a room; nor had I heard such tales from anyone. What on earth was going on upstairs?

Mr Godwin did not bother to look up. ‘It’s that table,’ he told us simply, ‘it’s jumping. Four frauds are sitting around it. They claim it’s been possessed by the soul of some dead person, that’s why it’s jumping.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Cronies of Arakis. Society for Spook Studies. Two Jews, one Parsee, and Arakis. They tried to rope me in, but I refused. One day, in front of Arakis, I had mentioned something about Thomas Godwin. So he said he could arrange a conversation with him. I said, certainly not! Sooner or later, I am going to meet him, anyway. Then, yesterday, Arakis said ...’

Mr Godwin stopped. The table was jumping again.

‘But why did he take that casket from you?’

‘Yes, I’m coming to that. He said they could contact Thomas Godwin’s soul even without my presence. All they needed was some object that had once belonged to him. Judging by that noise, they’ve succeeded.’

Tap, tap, tap ... the table jumped again.

‘Is this whole business carried out in the dark?’ Feluda wanted to know.

‘Every fraudulent business is carried out in the dark,’ Mr Godwin replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

‘Could we go upstairs?’

Lalmohan Babu heard these words, and promptly grabbed the arms of his chair to indicate his disapproval. Mr Godwin’s reply seemed to reassure him.

‘They won’t let you go into that room,’ Mr Godwin said. ‘That privilege is for members only. Arakis has a servant; he guards the entrance. But, of course, if someone wants their help in contacting a spirit, then he’s allowed in. Twenty rupees in advance, and another hundred if the spirit turns up.’

‘I see ...’