‘Better, thank you. Oh, by the way, that other gentleman who was with you that day ... I believe he is the detective, Pradosh Mitter? My brother told me. I had heard his name. In fact, I was thinking ...’ Girin Biswas stopped. He was frowning, and seemed a bit preoccupied. Then he said, ‘When is he usually at home?’

‘That’s difficult to say,’ I replied, ‘but you will find our number in the telephone directory. You can give him a call before you come to our house.’

‘Hmm. I wanted to ... never mind, I will ring him. Tell Mr Mitter I will come and see him, if need be ... heh heh!’

We returned his ‘heh heh!’ politely, and left the shop.

Then we went round New Market, looking at all the shops, and came out on Moti Sheel Street to go back to Suren Banerjee Road. Feluda was waiting by the car near Bourne & Shepherd’s. He had finished his work sooner than he’d expected.

I told him about our meeting with Girin Biswas. ‘Really?’ Feluda raised an eyebrow. ‘What did he say?’

I knew it wouldn’t do to be vague, so I told Feluda in detail about our conversation. I even mentioned the parcel from the drycleaners. Feluda heard me in silence.

‘Did you get your work done? All went well, I hope?’ Lalmohan Babu asked.

‘Oh yes, first class. That place is a veritable goldmine. And I rang Mr Choudhury from the shop. His voice was as smooth as velvet. He’s returned home and we now have a firm appointment.’

Chapter 9

I had heard chiming clocks before, but as soon as we stepped into Mahadev Choudhury’s house at six o’clock, various clocks began striking the hour. The sound that came from one clock after another was quite extraordinary. I had never heard anything like it.

‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Lalmohan Babu. ‘Are we slipping through the gates of heaven? What an incredible reception!’

We could not meet Mr Choudhury straightaway. One of his employees took us to a small office and told us we would have to wait, as Mr Choudhury was busy. There were two fancy clocks even in that small room— one on the wall, and the other on a bookshelf.

When the last chime had died away, a somewhat eerie silence gripped the whole house. It was a huge, modern building. The marble floor shone so brightly that, if I looked down, I could see my own face reflected in it.

After a few moments, I became aware of a voice. It was coming from somewhere within the house. Feluda said it was Mahadev Choudhury’s, though it was difficult to tell whether or not it could be termed as velvety. However, when it suddenly rose and began shouting, all traces of velvet disappeared.