by Satyajit Ray
‘I forgot to tell you something this morning,’ he continued, lowering his voice. ‘I heard this from my mali, so I couldn’t tell you how reliable his information is.’
‘What did he tell you?’
‘Apparently, over the last few days, a man has been seen lurking outside our gate, keeping an eye on the house.’
‘You don’t say!’
‘My mali has been with me for years; I don’t really have any reason not to believe him.’
‘Has he been able to describe this man?’
‘Yes, but not very well. All he’s told me is that the man is of medium height and is unshaven. He disappears behind a tree each time the mali tries to get a closer look. But he smokes, for the mali has seen some smoke rising from behind the tree.’
‘Can you think of a reason why anyone should want to keep an eye on your house?’
‘Yes. There is a valuable object in my house. It is a statue of Krishna, made of ashtadhatu. It used to be in a temple in Nayanpur. Many people here have seen it, and many others might know that I have it with me.’
‘Where do you keep it?’
‘On a shelf in my bedroom.’
‘Don’t you keep it under lock and key?’
‘I stay awake all night, and I always have my revolver close at hand. So I don’t think a burglar would get very far, even if he broke into my house.’
‘Might there be some other reason why anyone would wish to attack your house?’
‘All I can tell you is that there is every possibility someone may wish to harm me. Please don’t ask me to explain—I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you more. If something untoward does happen, Mr Mitter, can I count on your support?’
‘Of course. That goes without saying.’
‘Thank you. I feel a lot better now.’
At this moment, a man of about thirty was seen walking towards us.
‘Come here, Samiran, let me introduce you to my friends,’ said Mr Majumdar. ‘This is my son, Samiran, And this is Mr Pradosh Mitter, and Mr Lalchand—no, sorry, Lalmohan . . . Ganguli, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And this is Tapesh, Pradosh Mitter’s cousin.’
We exchanged greetings. Samiran Majumdar was a smart looking man, and was dressed just as smartly in a red jerkin. ‘You are a famous detective, aren’t you?’ he said to Feluda.
‘I don’t know about being famous, but detection is certainly my profession.’
‘I love reading fiction. I’d like to have a long chat with you one day.’
‘Certainly. I’ll look forward to it.’
But you’ll have to excuse me today. I’m out shopping, you see.’ Samiran Majumdar left. His father got back on his horse. ‘I should make a move, too. See you soon.’
‘Yes. Don’t hesitate to call me, if need be. We’re staying at Hotel Kanchenjunga.’
While we were talking, a man had appeared and thrust a piece of paper into Lalmohan Babu’s hand. It turned out that he had been sent by Pulak Ghoshal, and the paper contained his lines for tomorrow. ‘They wrote out my Hindi dialogue in the Bengali script,’ he said. ‘Very thoughtful of them, I must say. I cannot read Hindi very well.’
‘How many lines have you got?’
‘Er . . . three and a half.’
‘Very well, bring them to my room later. We must have a rehearsal and make sure you speak Hindi better than you can read it.’
We went back to Keventer’s for a cup of hot chocolate. It was quite nippy outside, especially as the sky was clear this evening. Quite a few stars were out already, and even the Milky Way was faintly visible.
‘May I join you?’
All of us were startled to find an elderly gentleman standing behind an empty chair at our table, smiling slightly. He must have been in his early sixties, wore glasses and had salt-and-pepper hair.
‘Yes, certainly,’ Feluda invited.
‘I know who you are,’ the gentleman looked at Feluda. ‘I read an interview with you in a magazine about a year ago. It included your photograph.’
‘Yes, I remember that.’
‘You must forgive me for barging in like this. You see, I live next to Mr Majumdar’s house. I saw you go in there this morning. My house is called The Retreat, and I am Harinarayan Mukherjee.’
‘Namaskar. This is my friend, Lalmohan Ganguli; and here’s my cousin, Tapesh.’
‘Namaskar. Have you come here to work on a case?’
‘No, I’m here purely on holiday.’
‘I see. I just wondered . . . I mean, if you see a detective going into Mr Majumdar’s house . . .’
‘Why, is he in trouble?’
‘Well, one hears lots of rumours about him.’
‘Ah. No, I don’t think he’s in trouble of any kind; neither do I think one should pay any attention to rumours.’
‘Yes, yes, you’re quite right.’
It seemed to me that Feluda deliberately avoided mentioning our last conversation with Mr Majumdar. After all, we didn’t know this man. Besides, he had barged in, uninvited.
It was quite dark by this time, and the restaurant wasn’t particularly well lit. But, even in that dim light, I could see Lalmohan Babu studying his lines, speaking the words softly.
‘I’ll take my leave now, Mr Mitter. Very pleased to have met you,’ Mr Mukherjee said, rising. He was gone a second later.
‘I think he’s lived here for a long time,’ Feluda remarked.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘He’s used to the cold. Didn’t you see he was wearing only a woollen shawl over a cotton shirt? He wasn’t even wearing socks. I’d like to get to know him a little better.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of what he implied today. He may have some information. Who knows?’
I sipped my chocolate, thinking of the people we had met since our arrival, and all that they’d told us. If this went on, there could well be an explosion.
I had no idea it would come so soon.
Five
A member of the film unit, Mr Nitish Som, turned up soon after breakfast the following morning to collect Lalmohan Babu. Feluda and Lalmohan Babu had worked very hard the previous evening to make sure he got his lines right.
‘Mr Ghoshal said he’d like you to wear your own clothes, but we don’t yet know what colour would be suitable. So could you pack everything you’ve got here?’ Mr Som asked.
‘May I go with you?’ I said. Mr Som thought for a minute and replied, ‘Why don’t you come around eleven? We’re not going to start shooting before twelve this afternoon. I am taking Mr Ganguli away only because we need to have enough time to do his make-up. But if you come at eleven, you’ll be able to see our little ceremony to mark the mahurat—you know, the starting of our shooting. After that, if you like you can stay on and have lunch with us.’
Lalmohan Babu left with his suitcase at eight-thirty. Feluda and I went out half an hour later, to walk down Jalapahar Road. ‘It makes no sense to spend the whole morning in the hotel!’ Feluda declared.
The morning, as it happened, was as beautiful as the day before. The sun shone brightly, and Kanchenjunga stood out in all its glory. The Mall was quite crowded today. Loads of people had arrived to spend their Puja holidays. We passed the horse-stand, and continued walking. Feluda lit a cigarette. He was trying very hard to give up smoking, but he couldn’t do without one after breakfast.
‘What do you make of it, Topshe?’ he asked, looking at the scenery.
‘The only person who struck me as interesting was Birupaksha Majumdar.’
‘Yes, but that is only because you have learnt a lot of interesting things about him. A man who doesn’t sleep at night, spends his time collecting pieces of sensational news, tells you there’s a mystery in his life but refuses to divulge the details, and keeps a valuable statue on an open shelf in his bedroom, most certainly cannot be classified as ordinary.’
‘His son hardly opened his mouth.’
‘True.
In fact, that stuck me as odd. He appeared as though he was afraid to say very much, in case he said something he shouldn’t.’
‘And Rajat Bose?’
‘What did you think of him?’
‘I think his eyesight isn’t very good, but he’s decided not to wear glasses. Didn’t you see him bump against a chair?’
‘Excellent. Perhaps he does have glasses, but they’re either broken or lost. I think it’s things in the far distance he cannot see. I’m sure his close-range vision is fine, or he couldn’t have brought out those scrapbooks.’
‘What about the hero from Bombay and the villain?’
‘You tell me. Let’s see how much you’ve observed.’
‘I noticed something strange yesterday.’
‘What?’
‘Mr Majumdar seemed upset—no, not exactly upset—but didn’t he suddenly grow kind of preoccupied when he met Raina and Verma?’
‘Yes. But his mind keeps wandering, doesn’t it? As if there’s something on his mind, all the time. We may learn what it is if we can ever get to hear what the local rumours say about him.’
We returned to the hotel an hour and a half later. I left again at eleven-thirty. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Feluda said, ‘I’ll try to get to the gumpha on top of the Observatory Hill. You just go and enjoy yourself.’ I reached Nayanpur Villa in about twenty minutes. The first thing that greeted me was the noise from a generator, but I couldn’t see it. One of the unit members saw me, and came forward to take me inside. The shooting was going to take place in the southern side of the house. We hadn’t seen this part of the house yesterday. One of the rooms was very brightly lit. All doors and windows had been sealed to keep out natural light. Perhaps the scene to be shot would show something happening at night.
But where was our Jatayu?
Oh, there he was! It took me a few seconds to recognize him. A beard and a wig had transformed his appearance totally. He really was looking like a villain. On catching my eye, he walked over to me and said gravely, ‘What do you think? Will I do?’
‘Oh, sure. I hope you remember your lines?’
‘Of course.’
At this moment, Pulak Babu called from the set. ‘Laluda!’ Lalmohan Babu ran to grab a chair opposite Mahadev Verma, who was sitting on a small sofa, stroking his moustache.
‘Look, Laluda,’ said Pulak Babu, ‘let me explain what I want you to do . When I say “Action!”, you must take out a cigar from your pocket and put it in your mouth.
‘Mahadev will take out a cigarette. Then you must bring out a matchbox, light Mahadev’s cigarette, and then your own cigar, leaning back in your chair. I will then say “yes”. You must then inhale, and speak your first line. That will end the shot. Remember, this is chiefly your shot, for the camera will show your face, and Mahadev’s back. All right? Here’s a cigar and a matchbox.’
‘All right.’
The camera started rolling a minute later. ‘Sound!’ said Pulak Babu, ‘Action!’ Lalmohan Babu put the cigar in his mouth, but failed to light the match. I saw him clutching a matchstick the wrong way round, and striking the plain end against the box helplessly. ‘Cut, cut! Laluda, please—!’
‘Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more careful the next time.’
In the second shot, he lit his cigar successfully, but inhaled quite a lot of smoke and began coughing and spluttering. Pulak Babu had to shout, ‘Cut!’ once more. But the third shot went without a single hitch, and ended in a round of applause for the villain’s assistant.
It took Pulak Babu another five hours to call it a day. I noted with surprise that Lalmohan Babu did not make a single mistake after the first two shots. He did have to go to the bathroom twice, but that may have been because it was cold, rather than the fact that he was nervous. Pulak Ghoshal declared himself totally satisfied.
‘My man will call for you at the same time tomorrow morning,’ he said.
‘There is no need to send anyone. I can come here on my own.’
‘No, no, I can’t let you do that. All our artists are always escorted by someone from the unit. It is our normal practice.’
Ten minutes later, Lalmohan Babu’s make-up had been removed and we were on our way back to the hotel in one of the jeeps of the production team.
On reaching the hotel, Lalmohan Babu came straight to our double room instead of going back to his own. He threw himself down on my bed without a word. Before Feluda could say anything, I told him how well he had performed and how that had been appreciated by everyone in the unit.
‘Oh, good. This opens up a whole new dimension to your career, doesn’t it? A famous writer, and a brilliant film actor!’
Lalmohan Babu had been lying with his eyes closed. Now he suddenly opened them and looked straight at Feluda. ‘Oh God, I nearly forgot. Felu Babu, I have to tell you something very important.’
‘What is it?’
‘Listen carefully. We had our lunch break today at half past one. I went to the bathroom as soon as work stopped. There is a bathroom in the southern wing where the shooting is taking place, but I found it crammed with stuff Pulak is using to get his sets ready. So I had to go to another bathroom in the other wing, where Mr Majumdar lives. In fact, one of the production assistants showed me where it was. It was quite separate, not attached to a bedroom. I washed my hands and was coming out, when I heard Mr Majumdar’s voice. I couldn’t tell you which room he was in, but it wasn’t far from the bathroom. I heard him say, “You are a liar. I don’t believe a single word you say.” He wasn’t speaking loudly, but he sounded distinctly annoyed.’
‘Oh? That obviously means he was still awake.’
‘Yes. I heard he takes his pill at half past one. When I came out of the bathroom, it must have been at least one thirty-five, perhaps a couple of minutes more.’
‘What did the other person say?’
‘I couldn’t hear him. Lunch was ready by that time, and the others were waiting for me, so I had to come away quickly. But there is no doubt that the words I heard were spoken by Mr Birupaksha Majumdar.’
‘That means he was speaking either to Rajat Bose or his son, Samiran.’
‘Yes, maybe.’ Lalmohan Babu yawned and suddenly changed the subject.
‘I noticed something else, Felu Babu. These famous film stars from Bombay aren’t really as good as they are supposed to be.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I had a shot with Raina after lunch. It was a simple shot, and he had very few lines. Still, he kept getting them wrong, and we ended up having as many as five takes.’
‘These things happen, Lalmohan Babu. Sometimes even an old and established actor can have an attack of nerves.’
‘As for myself,’ Lalmohan Babu announced, ‘I have lost all my nervousness. I have nothing to worry about now.’
Six
The explosion came the next day. But, before I explain how it happened, I must describe what the day was like.
It was cloudy, so Kanchenjunga couldn’t be seen. Feluda and I went out in the morning for a bit of shopping. Then we took a walk down Birch Hill Road before returning to our hotel. I left for Nayanpur Villa at eleven. Lalmohan Babu was already there, having practised his new lines to perfection. He had five lines today, and wasn’t required to light a cigar in a single shot. This gave an added bounce to his step.
Pulak Ghoshal took seven shots with Lalmohan Babu. He was free by half past four. ‘There’s a jeep waiting, Laluda,’ Pulak Babu said, ‘you can go back any time.’
‘Since I’ve managed to finish early today, Pulak, I think I’ll walk back.’
‘Very well, just as you wish.’
‘I like their tea,’ Lalmohan Babu confided when Pulak Ghoshal had gone, ‘so why don’t we wait until tea is served?’
By the time we had had tea, it was five o’clock. It took us another half an hour to reach the hotel. We found Feluda putting on his jacket rather hurriedly.
‘Going out?’ I asked. Feluda gave me a startled
look.
‘But you were there! Didn’t you hear anything?’
‘We left more than half an hour ago. No, we didn’t hear anything. What’s happened?’
‘The old Mr Majumdar has been murdered.’
‘Wha-a-a-t!’ Lalmohan Babu and I yelled together.
‘He rang me at about half past twelve,’ Feluda told us. ‘He said he had something important to tell me, so he’d see me here in the evening. And then this happened.’
‘Who told you?’
‘His son. Samiran Majumdar rang me five minutes ago. He said he had informed the police, but would like me to be there as well. It was he who found the body, when he went to see why his father hadn’t got up even after five. The door was shut, but not locked or bolted. Apparently, Mr Majumdar always left his door unlocked. Someone stabbed him in the chest. Their family doctor has already confirmed that stabbing was the cause of death. Whatever shooting remained has naturally been cancelled, and until the police finish their enquiries, it will have to stay cancelled. Anyway, I am going there. Would you like to come with me, or would you rather stay here?’
‘Stay here? Felu Babu, how could we stay here after such news? Let’s go!’
We reached Nayanpur Villa at quarter past six. It was dark by this time, and had started to rain. Everyone from the film unit was still present. Pulak Ghoshal came forward to meet us. ‘What a terrible affair!’ he exclaimed. ‘None of us can quite believe it. What a nice man he was, so very accommodating.’ I had already seen a police jeep standing outside. An inspector was waiting on the front veranda. He stretched out an arm towards Feluda. ‘I have heard a lot about you, Mr Mitter. I am Jatish Saha.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Saha,’ Feluda shook hands, ‘what exactly happened?’
‘He was killed in his sleep, as far as one can make out.’
‘The weapon?’
‘A dagger. It’s still there, stuck in his chest. I believe it belonged to the victim. He had it in his room.’
‘Has your own surgeon examined the body?’
‘No, he hasn’t yet arrived, but we’re expecting him any minute. Why don’t you come in?’
