‘My grandfather was an only child.’

‘Then it must be a cousin.’

‘I couldn’t tell you anything about cousins. My memory has become quite weak. Besides, families in our community do not live together. We tend to go our own way, so we scatter and disperse—unlike your Bengali joint families!’

*

We were sitting at Nizam’s, opposite Society cinema. Over a plate of mutton rolls, Feluda asked Lalmohan Babu, ‘What did you think of Naren Biswas? I mean, as a person?’

Lalmohan Babu finished chewing, swallowed and said, ‘Why, he seemed quite a nice man! There was something rather impressive in his appearance, I thought.’

‘Yes, that’s what I had thought as well, at first.’

‘You don’t think so any more?’

‘No, but it must be said that one flaw doesn’t—or shouldn’t—ruin a man’s entire personality. Nevertheless, he did commit a serious crime.’

Lalmohan Babu and I stopped eating.

‘Remember those press cuttings in his wallet? Today, I saw for myself that they were removed with a blade from a hundred-and-fifty, or maybe two-hundred-year- old newspaper, preserved with great care in the National Library’s reading room. I think a man ought to be jailed for such a crime!’

I tried to imagine Naren Biswas in the reading room, holding his breath and secretly cutting out those reports, dodging the eyes of the library officials ... but failed to picture the scene. It is truly impossible to guess, just by looking at a man, what he may be capable of doing.

‘This is a kind of ailment,’ Feluda continued. ‘Some people get a hideous pleasure from committing such crimes successfully, without being caught. They think they are more clever than anyone else, and feel very pleased with themselves. It’s all very sad.’

Having finished the mutton rolls, we ordered lassi. Feluda asked for the bill at the same time. It was half- past two. We had to kill another three hours before we could visit Mr Choudhury, the one who was said to be crazy about clocks. I knew Feluda would not give up until the matter of the Perigal repeater was cleared up.

‘Tell me,’ said Lalmohan Babu, ‘did those scavenger birds in ancient Calcutta sit on parapets and call, in the hope of getting some food?’

We were sitting close to a window facing the street. A crow was sitting on the parapet over it, cawing loudly. Hence Lalmohan Babu’s question.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Feluda replied, ‘but they certainly used to sit on compound walls and railings. There is enough evidence of that in old pictures drawn at the time.’

‘I don’t even know what those birds looked like!’