Naren Biswas was physically a lot better. He told us he was no longer in pain, and his bandage would come off in a few days. Nevertheless, he did not look very happy. In fact, he looked decidedly morose and depressed.

‘I’d like to ask you a few questions,’ Feluda said, ‘I won’t take long.’

Mr Biswas cast a suspicious glance at him and asked, ‘If you don’t mind my asking, are you conducting an investigation? I know you are a detective, so ...’

‘Yes, you are quite right. It will help me a lot if you don’t try to hide the truth.’

Mr Biswas closed his eyes, as if he was trying to deal with some inner pain. Perhaps he had guessed that it would not be easy for him to answer Feluda’s questions.

‘When you regained consciousness in the hospital,’ Feluda began, ‘you mentioned a will.’

Mr Biswas did not open his eyes.

‘Why did you do that?’

This time, Naren Biswas opened his eyes. His lips moved and trembled a little, before he spoke. ‘I am not obliged to answer your question, am I?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘In that case, I won’t.’

Feluda remained silent. So did we. Mr Biswas looked away.

‘Very well,’ Feluda said after a few moments, ‘let me ask you something else.’

‘I reserve the right to remain silent.’

‘Yes, you certainly have that right.’

‘Well?’

‘Who is Victoria?’

‘Victoria?’

‘Er ... I have to make a confession here. I looked at the contents of your wallet. There was a piece of paper ... ‘

‘Ah ... ha ha ha!’ To our amazement, Mr Biswas suddenly burst out laughing. ‘That’s a very old story. I’d almost forgotten all about it. You see, when I was still working, one of my colleagues was an Anglo-Indian. His name was Norton, Jimmy Norton. He once told me he had several letters in his house, all written by his grandmother. I never saw them. Apparently, his grandmother was in Behrampore at the time of the mutiny—she was only about seven. The letters were written much later, but she referred to her childhood experiences. Since there’s some interest these days in such matters, and books are being written, I’d told Norton that I’d let him have the addresses of a few foreign publishers. Norton himself knew nothing about such things. Wait, let me get hold of that piece of paper.’

Mr Biswas stretched an arm to open the top drawer of a table and took out his wallet. There he found the slip of paper.

‘Here, look! Bourne & Shepherd. I wanted to tell Jimmy to find out from Bourne & Shepherd if they had any old photos of his grandmother. And the rest are the initials of various publishers. I never got the chance to pass this piece of paper to Jimmy Norton. He went down with jaundice, and was off sick for six weeks. After that he left his job.’