The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II

by Satyajit Ray

  ‘Why are you hounding me like this, Mr Mitter?’ he demanded, sitting down on a mattress. ‘Haven’t you learnt your lesson? What good is it going to do, anyway? You’ll never get that pearl back.’

  ‘You consider yourself very clever, don’t you Maganlalji?’

  ‘Sure, and so do you. I couldn’t have run my business so successfully if I didn’t have the brains, could I? If I wasn’t clever, Mr Mitter, I could not have brought that pearl straight out of your bedroom.’

  ‘Oh? And what pearl would that be?’

  ‘The pink pearl!’ Maganlal shouted, sounding intensely annoyed. ‘Do I have to describe it to you? You know very well what I’m talking about.’

  ‘No, Maganlalji,’ Feluda said slowly, with unruffled calm. ‘There is something you don’t know. That pearl is a white pearl—a cheap, cultured white pearl, painted pink to fool you and your men who broke into my house. The real pink pearl has gone back to its rightful owner. Actually, you are not half as clever as you think.’

  I listened to Feluda’s words, absolutely amazed. How could he tell so many lies with a straight face? Where did he find such courage? I cast a quick glance at Lalmohan Babu. He was staring at the floor, his head bowed.

  ‘Is that the truth, Mr Mitter?’

  ‘Why don’t you check it out?’

  Frowning darkly, Maganlal rang a silver bell. The same large and hefty man answered it.

  ‘Call Sunderlal from his shop. Tell him Maganlal wants to see him. Now.’

  The man left. A few seconds passed in silence. Maganlal opened a paan box and stuffed a paan into his mouth. Then, shutting it again, he asked a strange question:

  ‘Do you know any Tagore songs?’

  I glanced quickly at him. He was looking at Lalmohan Babu. ‘Why don’t you answer me, Uncle? You can’t be a Bengali and not know a Tagore song!’

  Lalmohan Babu shook his head silently.

  ‘No? You really don’t? You expect me to believe that?’

  Feluda spoke this time: ‘He does not sing, Maganlalji.’

  ‘So what? He’ll sing now, for me. Sunderlal will take at least ten minutes to come here. Uncle will entertain us in the meantime. Come on, Uncle, get up and come and sit by me on the mattress. You’ll find it easier to sing from here. Get up, get up. If you don’t there’s going to be trouble.’

  ‘Why do you always make fun of him?’ Feluda asked angrily. ‘What’s he done to you?’

  ‘Nothing. That’s why I like him so much. Go on then Uncle, get going.’

  Lalmohan Babu was forced to rise this time and do as he was told. He went and sat down on the mattress and began singing, ‘Let all be awash in this fountain of life’. The poor man could not sing at all, but he carried on nevertheless, for nearly five minutes. After that, he stopped abruptly and said, ‘I don’t know the rest.’

  Maganlal had been tapping the top of his cash box in rhythm with the song. He nodded and said, ‘That is enough. You were very good Uncle. Now go back to your sofa.’

  Lalmohan Babu returned to where he had been sitting before. Just as he flopped down on the sofa, Maganlal’s henchman came back, accompanied by an old man wearing thick glasses.

  ‘Come in, Sunderlalji,’ Maganlal opened his cash box and took out the little red velvet box Mr Boral had left with us. From it he extracted the pearl and asked, ‘Did you know a pearl could be pink?’

  ‘Pink?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well . . . yes, I have heard of pink pearls, but never seen one in my life.’

  ‘You’ve been running a jeweller’s shop for fifty years, and you’ve never seen one? Very well, just take a look at this. Tell me if you think it’s genuine.’

  Sunderlal took the pearl from Maganlal and held it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, peering at it closely. I noticed that his hands were trembling slightly. He examined it for nearly a minute before saying, ‘Yes, sir. It’s a genuine pearl, and certainly it’s pink. I never imagined I’d get to see something like this.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s not a fake?’

  ‘I do not see any reason to think so, sir.’

  Maganlal took the pearl back. ‘All right, you may go now,’ he said. Sunderlal left.

  ‘You heard him, Mr Mitter,’ Maganlal glared at Feluda. ‘This pearl is genuine. You lied to me.’

  ‘Will you try to sell it to Suraj Singh?’

  ‘Why should I tell you? It’s none of your business.’

  ‘You’ll now go to Delhi, I suppose?’

  ‘What if I do?’

  ‘Suraj Singh is in Delhi right now.’

  ‘I am aware of that.’

  ‘Do you mean to say you have nothing to do with Suraj Singh?’

  ‘I am saying nothing, Mr Mitter, not a word. This whole business regarding the pink pearl is over now, the chapter’s closed.’

  ‘All right. Kindly allow us to leave since you won’t talk, and return my property which your man confiscated.’

  Maganlal rang the bell again. ‘Give him back his revolver, and let them go,’ he said irritably.

  The revolver was duly returned to Feluda. We left immediately. ‘How do you feel now?’ I asked Lalmohan Babu as we emerged on the veranda.

  ‘Better, thank you. God knows how he can guess a man’s weak point. I have never sung a Tagore song for five minutes in my entire life!’

  We reached the front door.

  ‘I hope you realize, Lalmohan Babu,’ Feluda said, stepping out, ‘That we managed to find out something rather important today.’

  ‘Something important?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Now we know where that pearl is kept.’

  ‘Yes, but. . . hey, are you planning to take it back from him?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Eight

  We returned to our hotel. The manager, Niranjan Chakravarty, called from his room on seeing us: ‘Mr Mitter, you have a visitor here. He’s been waiting for you for quite some time.’

  We went into the manager’s room and found a man of about forty-five sitting opposite him. He rose as we entered.

  ‘Namaskar. My name is Motilal Boral.’

  ‘Namaskar. Are you Jaichand’s cousin?’

  ‘Yes, his first cousin. I own a cinema here.’

  ‘Yes, he told us. Come to our room, we can talk more comfortably there.’

  The four of us trooped upstairs to our room.

  ‘Where is that pearl now? Is it still with Jaichand?’ asked Motilal, sitting down on the fourth empty bed.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Have you heard of Maganlal Meghraj?’

  ‘Oh yes. I couldn’t have spent twenty-three years in Benaras without having heard of Maganlal.’

  ‘He has got the pearl.’

  ‘But why? He’s not a collector. He exports things, doesn’t he? Buys stuff at a low price and then sells it abroad. Or so I’ve heard.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Only this time, he is going to sell it to Suraj Singh of Dharampur.’

  ‘Really? Is Suraj Singh going to come here?’

  ‘No. He’s in Delhi, and Maganlal is going to go there very soon.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘We shall travel to Delhi, too, if we can get hold of that pearl.’

  ‘If Maganlal cannot sell it, will my cousin get paid?’

  ‘Of course, provided Suraj Singh keeps his word.’

  ‘The strange thing is that I did not even know our family possessed such a valuable object. You see, I left Sonahati when I was only fifteen, and never went back. Jai found the pearl and he kept it all these years without telling anyone. I wrote to him only when I read the newspaper report. His first letter said he was not going to sell it, but I heard from him only yesterday. He now seems to have changed his mind. Here’s his letter.’

  He took out a folded piece of paper and passed it to Feluda. Feluda read it quickly and handed it back.

  ‘He has offered you thirty thousand rupees. Are you
happy with that?’

  ‘Not really, but I am not going to argue. Something is better than nothing, isn’t it? But are you sure Maganlal has got the pearl?’

  ‘Absolutely. We saw it with our own eyes.’

  Motilal thought for a while. Then he said, ‘Let me get this straight. If you get the pearl, you yourself will go and sell it to Suraj Singh. Is that right?’

  ‘Right. You will get your share, and the money that remains will go to Jaichand.’

  ‘So somehow we must get that pearl back.’

  ‘Yes. Can you help me in this matter?’

  ‘What would you like me to do?’

  ‘Find me a few people who wouldn’t mind doing something rather reckless.’

  Motilal frowned, lost in thought. Then he looked straight at Feluda. ‘Look, Mr Mitter,’ he said, ‘running a cinema isn’t good enough these days. I mean, I don’t make enough money that way. Most people like to watch videos at home. So I’ve had to think of doing other things to add to my income.’

  ‘You mean things not entirely straightforward?’

  ‘Yes, something like that; but without actually breaking the law.’

  ‘Does that mean you do know of people who might agree to work for me?’

  ‘Yes. In fact, Manohar—who used to be Maganlal’s right-hand man—has joined me. I can arrange a couple of other men besides him.’

  ‘That’s brilliant.’

  ‘Just let me know what needs to be done.’

  ‘Come to the Gyan Bapi Masjid with your men at midnight. We’ll meet you there.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Felu Babu,’ Lalmohan Babu said anxiously, ‘have you really thought this through?’

  Feluda ignored him. ‘Maganlal’s current right-hand man is extremely strong. He’ll have to be dealt with,’ he told Motilal.

  Motilal smiled. ‘Don’t worry about that. Manohar is a wrestler, too; plus he is an intelligent man.’

  ‘Very well then. See you later tonight, at Gyan Bapi.’

  Motilal stood up. ‘By the way,’ he stopped at the door, ‘do you know where Maganlal has kept this pearl?’

  ‘Yes, we saw it.’

  ‘Good.’

  Motilal Boral left. Feluda, too, got to his feet and said, ‘I need to speak to Mr Chakravarty. It’ll only take a minute. After that, we’ll go and have something to eat. I am absolutely famished.’

  Nine

  There was something particularly eerie about the silence during the night in Benaras. This was possibly because, during the day, every street was filled with people, sounds, smells and colours. When we reached Gyan Bapi at midnight, everything was wrapped in darkness and all I could hear was a dog barking in the distance.

  We had to wait for about five minutes. Just as Feluda finished his cigarette and crushed its stub with his shoe, a voice called softly: ‘Mr Mitter!’

  Four dark figures emerged from an alley. ‘I brought three men,’ said Motilal’s voice. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Sure,’ Feluda whispered back. ‘We know our way. Let’s go.’

  We began walking. Both Motilal and Feluda seemed to be very familiar with the way to Maganlal’s house. They were walking fast even in the dark. Only one streetlight shone in a corner. In its dim light I could see that one of Motilal’s companions was as tall and muscular as Maganlal’s man. That was obviously Manohar.

  We stopped at the mouth of the alley that led to Maganlal’s house. ‘Please wait here,’ Feluda said to Lalmohan Babu. ‘We’ll take about twenty minutes, I should think.’

  The others left before either Lalmohan Babu or I could speak. They soon vanished from sight. We stood a little foolishly, unsure of what to do. Lalmohan Babu broke the silence after a couple of minutes.

  ‘I can’t imagine why your cousin had to go and get mixed up with those hooligans.’

  ‘He’ll explain everything, I am sure.’

  ‘I don’t like this at all.’

  ‘Sh-h. I don’t think we should talk.’

  Lalmohan Babu fell silent again. If I strained my ears, I could hear the sound of a harmonium and ghungrus, coming from the far distance. I looked at the sky. Millions of stars winked back at me. I had never seen quite so many of them. Now I realized there was a very faint light, perhaps being cast by all those stars. There was no moon.

  How long was it since we were left here waiting? Ten minutes? Fifteen? It seemed like hours. It felt strange to think that Maganlal’s house was being burgled less than fifty yards away, but there was no noise, absolutely no way of telling what was going on inside.

  Five minutes later, I heard footsteps coming back. Yes, it was Feluda and the others.

  ‘Right, let’s get back,’ he said as they got closer.

  ‘Mission—?’ Lalmohan Babu began breathlessly. ‘—Accomplished!’ Feluda finished his sentence. Then he turned to Motilal Boral.

  ‘Thank you very much for your help, Mr Boral. I’ll make sure you get your share when that pearl is sold.’

  We started walking back to the hotel. The other men waved, and disappeared into the darkness. None of us spoke on the way. As soon as we were back in our room, Lalmohan Babu burst into speech, unable to contain himself a moment longer: ‘Come on, tell us what happened!’

  ‘First look at this.’

  Feluda took out the red velvet box from his pocket and placed it on his bed.

  ‘Shabaash!’ exclaimed Lalmohan Babu. ‘How did you get it? There was no violence, I hope?’

  ‘Yes, there was, I am afraid. There had to be. But the only person who received a blow on his head was Maganlal’s henchman. Manohar did that. No one else was injured.’

  ‘How did you open that cash box?’

  ‘How is a locked object normally opened, Lalmohan Babu? I used a key.’

  ‘What! Where did you get it?’

  ‘From Maganlal.’

  ‘How? Good heavens, what did you use? Magic?’

  ‘No, sir. Not magic, but you might call it medicine. Supplied by a doctor our manager happens to know.’

  ‘What nonsense are you talking, Felu Babu? What was supplied?’

  ‘Chloroform,’ Feluda replied with a grin. ‘Tit for tat. Now do you understand?’

  We took the Delhi Express the next evening, reaching Delhi at 6 a.m. the following day. Having stayed at Janpath Hotel during our last visit to Delhi, we went there straight from the station. Feluda began ringing various other hotels as soon as we were taken to our room. It took him ten minutes to find out where Suraj Singh was staying.

  ‘Yes sir, Mr Singh is staying with us,’ said a voice from Taj Hotel. ‘Room number 347.’

  ‘Could I speak to him, please?’

  Luckily, Suraj Singh was in his room. Feluda told him he wanted to see him regarding the pink pearl. Mr Singh agreed immediately to see us in his room at six o’clock the same evening. We spent the afternoon eating at a Chinese restaurant and looking at the shops in Janpath. Then we went back to the hotel for a rest before leaving again at a quarter to six.

  Feluda rang from the lobby at Taj Hotel to inform Mr Singh of our arrival. We were told to go up to his room.

  The man who opened the door when we rang the bell turned out to be his secretary. ‘Please sit down,’ he said. ‘Mr Singh will be with you in a minute.’

  The three of us sat on a large sofa. It wasn’t really just a room, but a whole suite. We were in the sitting room. Suraj Singh appeared shortly. One look at him was enough to tell us he was immensely wealthy. He was wearing an expensive suit, a golden tie-pin and a gold pen peeped from his front pocket. On his fingers he wore more than one gold ring, studded with precious stones. He was perhaps in his mid-fifties, although only a few strands of hair at his temple had turned grey: The rest of his hair was jet black, as was the rather impressive moustache he sported.

  ‘Which one of you is Mr Mitter?’ he asked.

  Feluda rose and introduced himself. Mr Singh nodded, but continued to stand.

  ‘What’s
your connection with the pink pearl?’

  ‘I am a private investigator. Jaichand Boral left the pearl with me for safe keeping.’

  ‘Really? How do I know you didn’t steal it from him? Why should I believe you?’

  ‘I couldn’t prove anything, Mr Singh, if that’s what you mean. You’ll just have to take my word for it. I did not steal the pearl from Mr Boral. He gave it to me.’

  ‘No, I am not prepared to accept that without sufficient evidence.’

  ‘Very well. In that case, Mr Singh, you cannot buy the pearl. It will go back to Boral’

  ‘No, you have got to give it to me.’

  ‘I am not obliged to do anything of the sort. No one can force me.’ In a flash, Suraj Singh produced a revolver. This was followed by an ear-splitting noise. It took me a second to realize the noise had come from Feluda’s Colt, not Singh’s revolver. Feluda had realized what Mr Singh was going to do the instant he had moved his hand, and so had taken out his own weapon and fired it.

  Mr Singh’s revolver was knocked out of his hand. It fell on the carpet with a thud. I saw him glance again at Feluda. But, this time, his eyes held respect, not contempt.

  ‘I once killed a tiger from a distance of forty yards, but your aim is far better than mine,’ he admitted frankly. ‘All right then, give me that pearl. I will write you a cheque.’

  Feluda handed him the velvet box. Mr Singh took out the pearl from it, holding it gently. He turned it around, looking at it from different angles. His eyes gleamed with hope and excitement. Finally, he said, ‘I’d like to have it examined by an expert. You wouldn’t mind, would you? After all, I am going to pay an awful lot of money for it.’

  ‘Fine, go ahead.’

  ‘Shankarprasad!’ Suraj Singh called. A neat little man of about forty emerged from the adjoining room. He wore glasses with a golden frame.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Take a good look at this pearl. Is it genuine?’

  Like Sunderlal, Shankarprasad peered closely at it, frowning in concentration. A minute later, he gave it back to Mr Singh.

  ‘No, sir,’ he said.

  ‘What! What do you mean?’

  ‘This is not a genuine pink pearl, sir. It’s only an ordinary cultured white pearl. Someone painted it pink, that’s all.’