Lalmohan Babu was always punctual, but ever since he’d acquired a car, he’d become more strict about punctuality. That night, when he returned to our house, he knocked smartly on our door instead of rattling the knocker. Feluda and I had had our dinner and were ready. I was wearing my own hunting boots. Mine had been bought only the year before; Feluda’s were eleven years old. Perhaps they were not in very good condition because I saw him fiddling with a sole and making repairs. Now he was limping a little. Perhaps he should have gone to a cobbler. Surely it wouldn’t do to hobble if the night ahead was likely to be full of danger?

We got to our feet as soon as we heard the knock on the door. Feluda had a brown leather shoulder bag. A portion of the red envelope from Bourne & Shepherd was peeping out of it. He had instructed us to wear dark clothes. Lalmohan Babu was wearing a black suit.

He walked into our living room, saying, ‘You wouldn’t believe what modern medicine can do. My doctor told me about a nerve-soothing pill—it’s got two “x”-s in its name! At his suggestion I took one after dinner, and already I feel charged and ready to take on the world. Dear Tapesh, come what may, we’ll fight to the end, won’t we?’ He had no idea who he was supposed to fight, nor had I.

Feluda decided that our car should be parked at some distance from the main gate of the cemetery. ‘If its colour matched your dark clothes, I wouldn’t have worried,’ he said. The driver, Hari, was told to stop the car even before we reached the crossing at Rawdon Street after passing St Xavier’s. ‘You two go ahead,’ Feluda said, ‘I have to leave some instructions with Hari.’

We left the car and walked on. God knows what Feluda’s instructions were, but it was clear from Hari’s general demeanour that he was most intrigued by our activities, and perfectly willing to join in.

Feluda came back in a few minutes. ‘You are very lucky to have found such a good driver,’ he told Lalmohan Babu. ‘He seems most reliable. I’m quite relieved, now that I’ve asked him to handle certain responsibilities.’

‘What responsibilities?’

‘Nothing, really, if all goes well here. If it doesn’t, a lot will depend on Hari.’

Feluda refused to say any more.

The large iron gate was standing open. How come? ‘Normally, at this time of night, it would be closed,’ Feluda whispered back when I asked him. ‘But tonight there’s a special arrangement. There are pieces of glass fixed to the edge of the compound wall, you see. Climbing over it would have been risky. But where’s Baramdeo?’