The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume I

by Satyajit Ray

  Who, apart from Mr Sengupta, had gone to the forest that night? Was it the murderer? Was it the person who had stolen the sword? Or was it a third person? Who could have a small but powerful torch?

  We had all heard Mahitosh Sinha-Roy having an argument with someone the same night. Who was he speaking to?

  Devtosh Babu was about to tell us something concerning the peepul tree and his brother, when the latter interrupted him. What was he going to say?

  Why did Devtosh Babu mention Yudhisthir’s chariot, more than once? Was it simply the raving of a madman, or did it have any significance?

  Why does Shashanka Sanyal speak so little? Was he quiet and reserved by nature, or was there a specific reason behind his silence?

  Lalmohan Babu heard him read out this list, then said, ‘Look, Felu Babu, there’s one man who continues to make me feel uneasy. Yes, I am talking of Devtosh Babu. He spoke quite normally a few hours ago, but at other times he isn’t normal, is he? What if he came upon someone accidentally in the forest, and decided it was Kalapahar, or Raju as he calls him? He might attack this person, mightn’t he?’

  Feluda stared at Lalmohan Babu for a few seconds before speaking. ‘Working with me has clearly improved both your imagination and powers of observation,’ he remarked. ‘Yes, I agree Devtosh Babu is certainly physically capable of striking someone with a sword. But consider this: whoever took that sword knew Mr Sengupta had gone to the forest. So he deliberately took the weapon, followed him—don’t forget it was a stormy night—found him, and then killed him. Could a madman have thought all this out and acted upon it, especially when it meant finding his way in the dark in inclement weather, then holding the torch in one hand and using the sword with the other? No, I don’t think so. What is essential now is a return visit to the forest, and seeing if we can pick up a clue. There’s no point in speculating here. The only thing I am sure of is that Mr Sengupta had gone into the forest to look for the hidden treasure. Perhaps he wanted to collect it and take it back to Calcutta. But what still doesn’t make sense is why he was so sorely tempted in the first place. He was living here very comfortably, and was clearly very well paid. Did you see his clothes and toiletries? Everything was expensive and of good quality. Even the cigarettes he smoked were imported.’

  Lalmohan Babu shook his head, and declared he was now ready for bed. I fell asleep soon after this, but Feluda stayed awake for a long time.

  I woke to find the sky overcast once again, and Feluda dressed and ready. Then we heard the sound of a jeep arriving, and a servant came up to say we were wanted in the drawing room.

  Inspector Biswas was waiting for us.

  ‘Are you happy now?’ he asked Feluda.

  ‘Why should I be happy?’

  ‘You found a mystery, didn’t you? The murderer took the weapon from this house and finished his victim with it. Isn’t that great news?’

  ‘It is true that a sword is missing. But surely you are not assuming that the same sword was used to kill Mr Sengupta, just because it is no longer here?’

  ‘No, I am not assuming anything at all. But what about you? Didn’t the thought cross your mind?’

  Both men were speaking politely, but it was obvious that a silent undercurrent of rivalry was flowing between them. This was quite unnecessary. I felt cross with the inspector. It was he who had started it. Feluda lit a cigarette and spoke quietly, ‘I haven’t yet reached any conclusion. And if you think I am happy about any aspect of this case, you are quite wrong. Murder never makes me happy, particularly when it is the murder of a young and clever man.’

  ‘A clever man?’ Mr Biswas jeered openly. ‘Why should a clever man leave the comforts of his room and go walking in a dark forest in the middle of the night? What’s so clever about that? Can you find a satisfactory answer to this question. Mr Mitter?’

  ‘Yes, I can.’

  All the three men present in the room, apart from ourselves, seemed to stiffen at Feluda’s words. ‘There was a very good reason for Mr Sengupta’s visit to the forest that night,’ Feluda said clearly, looking at Mahitosh Babu. ‘I have worked out the meaning of the puzzle you showed me. But Torit Sengupta had done the same, long before me. That tiger skin should really have gone to him. It is my belief that he was in the forest looking for the treasure.’

  Mahitosh Babu opened his mouth to speak, but could not find any words. His eyes nearly popped out. Feluda hurriedly explained about the puzzle and how he had discovered its meaning. But Mahitosh Babu continued to look perplexed.

  ‘The tree of the toothless fakir?’ he said, surprised. ‘Why, I have never heard of it!’

  ‘Really? But your brother told us you used to go for picnics with your grandfather when you were both small. He said you sat under that tree? . . .’

  ‘My brother?’ Mahitosh Babu said a little scornfully, ‘Do you realize how much fact there is in what my brother says, and how much of it is fiction? Don’t forget he isn’t normal.’

  Feluda could not say anything in reply. How could he possibly comment on Mahitosh Babu’s brother’s illness? After all, he was only an outsider.

  Mahitosh Babu, however, had now started to look openly distressed. ‘This means . . . this means Torit was planning to run away to Calcutta with the treasure! And I had no idea.’ Mr Biswas stood up, curling his right hand into a fist. Then he struck his left palm with it and said, ‘Well, at least we know why he was in the forest. That’s one problem solved. Now we must find his assassin.’

  ‘It has to be someone from this house. I hope you realize that, Mr Biswas?’ Feluda blew out a smoke ring.

  Mr Biswas gave a twisted smile. ‘Sure,’ he replied, narrowing his eyes, ‘but that would have to include you. You had seen the sword, you knew where it was kept. You had every opportunity to remove it, just like the others in this house. We don’t know whether you knew Torit Sengupta before you came here, or whether there was any enmity between the two of you, do we?’

  Feluda sent another smoke ring floating in the air. ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘no one knows anything about that. However, everyone is aware of two things. One, I was invited here. I did not come on my own. Two, I was the one who pointed out that Mr Sengupta had been attacked by a sharp instrument. If I didn’t, people would have assumed a wild animal had killed him, and no further questions would have been asked.’

  Mr Biswas laughed unexpectedly. ‘Relax, Mr Mitter,’ he said, ‘why are you taking me so seriously? Don’t worry, we are not interested in you. Someone else concerns us far more.’ I noticed that when he said this, he exchanged a glance with Mahitosh Babu, just for a fleeting second.

  ‘You told me something yesterday, Mr Biswas. Does that still stand?’ Feluda asked.

  ‘What did I tell you?’

  ‘Can I continue with my own investigation?’

  ‘Of course. But we must not clash with each other, you know.’

  ‘We won’t. I wish to confine myself to working in the forest. You’re not interested in that, are you?’

  The inspector shrugged. ‘As you wish,’ he said carelessly. Feluda turned to Mahitosh Babu. ‘You mean to say there is absolutely no point in talking to your brother?’

  Mahitosh Sinha-Roy seemed to clench his jaw at this question. Was he perhaps beginning to lose his patience? However, when he spoke, he sounded perfectly friendly. ‘My brother seems to have taken a turn for the worse,’ he explained quietly. ‘I really don’t think he should be disturbed.’

  Feluda stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray and stood up. ‘Well, I can hardly remain here indefinitely as your guest. Tomorrow will be the last day of our visit. May we go to the forest today? If you could please tell Madhavlal, and get us a jeep—’

  Mahitosh Babu nodded. It was now eight-thirty. We decided to leave by ten o’clock. Feluda and I had brought hunting boots to walk in the forest. We put these on, although I had a feeling I wouldn’t be allowed to climb out of the jeep at all. I had expected Lalmohan Babu to say he had no wish to le
ave the jeep but, to my surprise, he disappeared into the bathroom and changed into khaki trousers. Then he took out a pair of rather impressive sturdy boots from his suitcase and began to slip them on. Feluda gave him a sidelong glance, but made no comment.

  ‘Felu Babu,’ Lalmohan Babu began, marching up and down in his new boots in military style, ‘is it true what they say about a tiger’s eyes? I mean, the look in its eyes is supposed to be absolutely terrifying, or so I’ve heard. Could it be true?’

  Feluda was staring out of the window, waiting to be told that Madhavlal and the jeep had arrived. We were all ready to leave.

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard the same,’ he replied. ‘But do you know what some famous shikaris have said? Tigers are just as afraid of men. If a man can manage to return a tiger’s stare and just stand with a steady eye contact, the tiger would make an about turn and go away. And if simply a stare doesn’t help, then screaming and shouting and waving may produce the same result.’

  ‘But . . . what about a man-eater?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘I see. So why are you? . . .’

  ‘Why am I going? I am going because the chances of the tiger coming out during the day are virtually nil. Even if it does appear, we will have a rifle to deal with it. Besides, we’ll have the jeep; so we can always make a quick escape, if need be.’

  Lalmohan Babu did not say another word until the jeep arrived. When it did, he simply said, ‘I can’t understand anything about this murder. Nothing makes sense, I am in total darkness.’

  ‘Efforts are being made to make sure we do not see the light, Lalmohan Babu. It should be our job to foil every attempt.’

  Nine

  We reached the spot where Mr Sengupta’s body had been found. The clouds having dispersed, it was much brighter today. Sunlight streamed through the leaves to form little patterns on the ground here and there. There also appeared to be many more birds chirping in the trees. Lalmohan Babu gave a start each time he heard a bird call, thinking it was an alarm call for an approaching tiger.

  The body had been removed the same day. Torit Babu’s family in Calcutta had been informed, and his brother had arrived to take care of the funeral. There was no sign left of that hideous incident near the bamboo grove. Even so, Feluda began inspecting the ground closely, assisted by Madhavlal. The more I saw Madhavlal, the more I liked him. He seemed a cheerful fellow. He smiled often, which made deep creases appear on both sides of his mouth. Even when he didn’t smile, his eyes twinkled. He told us on the way that the news of the man-eater had spread through people in the Forest Department. Apparently, a number of shikaris had offered to kill it. Among them was a Mr Sapru, who had killed many tigers and other animals in the Terai. He was expected to arrive the next day.

  Now he stopped to chat with us and began telling us stories of the many expeditions he had been on. At this moment, Feluda called him from the bamboo grove. Madhavlal stopped his tale and went forward quickly, closely followed by Lalmohan Babu and myself. Feluda had raised no objection today to our getting out of the jeep.

  We found him kneeling on the ground, bending over a bamboo stem.

  ‘Take a look at this!’ he said to Madhavlal.

  Madhavlal glanced at it briefly and declared, ‘It was hit by a bullet, sir.’

  There was a mark on the stem which I now saw. All of us—including Feluda—felt astounded.

  ‘Can you tell me how old that mark might be?’ Feluda asked, a little impatiently.

  ‘Not older than a couple of days,’ Madhavlal replied.

  ‘What can it mean?’ Feluda muttered, half to himself. ‘A sword . . . a gun . . . I’m getting all confused. Torit Sengupta was struck by the sword, then someone shot at the tiger but missed, by the looks of things. Or else . . .’ he broke off. Madhavlal had found something under the bamboo. I saw what it was only when I got closer. He was clutching what looked like fluff, about two inches in length.

  ‘Hair from the tiger’s body?’ Feluda asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. The bullet must have scraped one side.’

  ‘Is that why the tiger ran away without finishing its meal?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  Feluda began moving forward without another word. Madhavlal followed him, rifle in hand, his eyes alert. Lalmohan Babu and I placed ourselves between these two men, which struck us as the safest thing to do. Feluda was carrying a loaded revolver, but that wasn’t enough to deal with a man-eater. The sound of an engine starting told me the driver of our jeep was following us. It meant that he would get closer, although he couldn’t actually be by our side for we had left the road and were now amidst the trees and bushes.

  Three minutes later, Feluda appeared to notice something on a thorny bush, and quickly made his way to it, walking diagonally to the right. There was a piece of green cloth stuck to it, which had undoubtedly come from Mr Sengupta’s shirt. The tiger had obviously come this way carrying his body, and the shirt had got stuck on that bush.

  When we started walking again, Madhavlal took the lead. He could probably guess which way the man-eater had come from. He moved with extreme caution, partly because we were behind him and partly because the area abounded with briar and other prickly plants. He stopped abruptly under a large tamarind tree, looking closely at the ground. We gathered around him and saw what had caught his attention. I had never seen such a thing before, but knew instantly I was looking at a pug mark. There were several others that seemed to have come from the same direction we were now going in.

  Lalmohan Babu whispered, ‘Is th-this a t-two legged tiger?’ Madhavlal laughed. ‘No,’ Feluda explained, ‘that is how a tiger walks. It puts its hind legs exactly where it puts its forelegs. So it seems as if it’s a two-legged animal.’

  Madhavlal continued walking. I could no longer hear the jeep. A faint gurgling noise told me there was a nullah somewhere in the vicinity. Lalmohan Babu’s new boots, which had been squeaking rather loudly at first (‘ideal for arousing the man-eater’s curiosity,’ Feluda had remarked) were now silent, being heavily streaked with mud.

  We passed a silk-cotton tree, and then Madhavlal stopped again. ‘You have a revolver, sir, don’t you?’ he asked Feluda. His voice was low.

  A few yards ahead of us, something was emerging from the long grass, parting it to make its way. ‘Krait,’ Madhavlal said softly. I had read about kraits. They were extremely poisonous snakes. A second later, it came into view and stopped. It was black, striped with yellow. It had no hood.

  I did not see Feluda take out his revolver, but heard the earsplitting noise as he fired it. The head of the snake disappeared, and it was all over. A number of birds cried out, and a group of monkeys grew rather agitated, but the body of the snake lay still. ‘Shabaash!’ said Madhavlal. Lalmohan Babu made a noise that appeared to be a mixture of laughter, a sneeze and a cough.

  We resumed walking. The forest was not thick everywhere. The trees thinned to our left. ‘That’s where the nullah is,’ Madhavlal said, ‘and the area is rocky. Tigers often rest there during the day behind rocks and boulders. I suggest we walk straight on.’

  We took his advice. Feluda was still looking around everywhere, hoping for more clues. This time, Lalmohan Babu helped him find one, purely by accident. He stumbled against something and kicked it, making it spring up in the air and land a few feet away.

  It was a dark brown leather wallet. Feluda picked it up and opened it. There were two hundred-rupee notes, and a few smaller ones. Besides these, in the smaller compartments, were two folded old stamps, cash memos and a prescription. The wallet was wet and dirty, but the money inside it could be used quite easily. Feluda put everything back in the wallet, then put it in his pocket.

  We began walking again. The trees had suddenly grown very thick. Almost unconsciously, I began to look for a peepul tree. I knew Feluda was doing the same. I did see a couple of peepuls, but there were no palms near them. Madhavlal had stopped for a minute to cut two small branches from a tree, which he
then passed on to Lalmohan Babu and me. We were now using these as walking sticks.

  ‘A pug mark can tell you a lot about the size of the tiger, can’t it?’ Feluda asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Madhavlal replied. ‘Our man-eater appears to be a big fellow.’

  Feluda asked another question: ‘Mahitosh Babu has never killed anything in this forest, has he?’

  ‘No, sir. Many shikaris have superstitions. Mahitosh Babu is no exception. My own father did. Once, he happened to brush against a stinging nettle just as he set off from home. He killed a ten-foot tiger that day. From then on, every time he went on shikar, he used to rub his hands on stinging nettle, no matter how much it hurt.’

  ‘Jim Corbett was superstitious, too. If he could see a snake before going off to look for a tiger, that used to make him happy.’

  If his grandfather and father had both been killed here, it was entirely understandable why Mahitosh Babu had taken himself off to Assam and Orissa.

  Twenty minutes later, Feluda finally found what he was really looking for. Telling Madhavlal to stop, he began peering behind a thick bush, which was laden with small purple flowers. We joined him and saw it. The stone-studded handle of Adityanarayan’s sword was visible just outside the bush. The blade was hidden behind it.

  Feluda picked it up in one swooping movement. The blade was stained with blood, although the stains had faded to some degree. Feluda turned it over and inspected the handle closely. ‘Madhavlalji,’ he said, ‘the actual spot where the murder took place cannot be far from here. Can we walk on?’

  ‘Sure. But a hundred yards from here, you’ll find a temple.

  ‘A temple?’ Feluda asked sharply.

  ‘Yes, sir. The locals call it the temple of the Chopped Goddess. There’s nothing left in it. Only the basic structure is still standing somehow.’

  None of us said anything. Behind this temple was the tree of the toothless fakir. And fifty-five yards to the east . . .! Without a word, Feluda strode ahead, the sword in his hand, as though he was Sher Shah, out to destroy a tiger.