‘So you fooled them, you fooled them! Those morons! Cheats, frauds, swindlers!’ Then he looked at the other man and continued, biting sarcasm in his voice, ‘Tom Godwin’s spirit walked off with that casket, did it? Is he Tom Godwin’s spirit? This gentleman? What do you think? Look, this is Mr Arakis, my neighbour from upstairs. The same man whose table prances around every Thursday, and ruins the entire evening for me.’

Mr Arakis was gaping stupidly at the casket. Then he glanced at Feluda in silence, and shifted the same foolish gaze to the door. He began moving towards it, but had to stop. Feluda had called out his name.

‘Mr Arakis!’

The man looked at Feluda. ‘I think one of the items in that casket is still with you,’ Feluda said calmly.

‘Certainly not!’ Arakis thundered. ‘Besides, how would you know anything about it? Marcus, open that box and see if anything is missing.’

So Mr Godwin’s first name was Marcus. That explained the mystery of Arkis-Markis.

Marcus Godwin opened the casket and went through its contents. Then he said, with a somewhat embarrassed air, ‘Why, Mr Mitter, everything appears quite intact!’

‘Could you please take out that snuff box? Charlotte Godwin described it in her diary, and said it was studded with emeralds, rubies and sapphires.’

Mr Godwin took out the box and peered at it.

‘Can you see now that it’s a cheap, new snuff box, simply painted black? Mr Arakis tried to make it look like an antique!’

Within five minutes, Mr Arakis fetched the real thing from his flat upstairs. ‘I swear upon God,’ said Mr Godwin, ‘if I hear your table making any noise next Thursday, I will inform the police!’ Mr Arakis slunk out of the room like a thief, his face dark with embarrassment.

‘Thank you, Mr Mitter,’ said Mr Godwin, sighing with relief.

‘Have you any idea how valuable Charlotte Godwin’s diaries are?’

‘No. I didn’t even know that the casket contained such diaries. To tell you the truth, Mr Mitter, I am not even remotely curious about my forefathers. In fact, I am no longer curious about anything. I am simply waiting for death. The only thing I can call my own is that cat. In the past I used to visit a friend to play poker. Now, thanks to my gout, even that has come to an end.’

‘In that case, perhaps there’s no point in asking you a few questions.’

‘What questions?’

‘Your great-grandfather was called David, wasn’t he, and he was buried in the cemetery on Lower Circular Road?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did David have a brother or sister?’

‘Don’t know. One of my ancestors killed himself. I can’t remember if he was David’s brother.’

‘Was David’s son—your grandfather, that is—called Andrew?’

‘Yes, he was in the army.’

‘Charlotte talks of a niece. She was either your grandfather’s sister, or ...’