‘He insists it was a tree. He just doesn’t want to believe that his son might be responsible for his injury. But I have to say this. Prashanta may be my nephew, but if you don’t do something to stop him, he’ll try to kill again.’

‘If Naren Biswas makes a new will, his son will gain nothing by killing him, surely?’

‘No, but a financial gain can’t always be the only motive. He might just get furious and lose his head. People kill so often to take revenge and settle scores, don’t they? Besides, my brother won’t change his will. He cannot think straight. You have no idea, Mr Mitter, how far parental love can go.

‘I was at home all this while, but today I have to go out of town for a few days. That’s in connection with my business. So I came to you. Now if you will kindly ...’

‘Mr Biswas,’ Feluda flicked the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray, ‘I am very sorry to tell you that I’m already involved in a different case. Certainly your brother should receive some form of protection, but if he continues to insist that he was hit by a tree, no police force on earth can do anything to help him.’

Girin Biswas left. Until his arrival, we had all been feeling quite cheerful as the sun had come out after many grey and wet days. Girin Biswas had managed to spoil our mood.

‘How very strange!’ Feluda remarked when he’d gone, and finally made the phone call he was about to make when Mr Biswas arrived.

‘Hello, Suhrid? This is Felu.’

Suhrid Sengupta and Feluda were classmates in college.

‘Listen. Once I saw a copy of the Presidency College magazine in your house. It was a special issue, to mark its centenary. I think it belonged to your brother. Published possibly in 1955. Do you think he might still have it? ... Oh good. Can you leave it with your servant before you go to work? I’ll drop by at around half-past ten and collect it. All right? Thanks a lot.’

We finished our tea and left. Feluda had three ports of call—Naren Biswas, Bourne & Shepherd, and the Park Street cemetery. I was surprised to hear him mention Naren Biswas. ‘That’s because,’ Feluda explained, ‘I can’t really dismiss what his brother just told us. So I ought to visit Mr Biswas once more. You two needn’t go to the cemetery afterwards, but I think I’ll ask you to come along for tonight’s vigil. You must see and feel the atmosphere there, in the middle of the night. Or you’ll miss an extraordinary experience.’

‘Jai Santoshi Ma!’ said Lalmohan Babu. A little later, he added, ‘Tell me, can’t one make Son of Santoshi, like Son of Tarzan?’ That could only mean that he was still thinking of Pulak Ghoshal’s offer.