The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II

by Satyajit Ray

‘Well, Jyotishka,’ Mr Taradfar went on, ‘he has got two ten-rupee notes. Can you tell us the numbers printed on them?’

  ‘11 E 111302; and the other is 14 C 286025.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, he’s right again!’ the gentleman stood with his mouth hanging open. The hall began to boom with the sound of clapping.

  ‘Any one of you can ask him a question,’ said Mr Tarafdar when the noise subsided a little. ‘All you have to remember is that the answer to your question must be in numbers. But I must warn you that Jyotishka finds this exercise quite strenuous, so I will allow only two more questions this evening.’

  A young man stood up. ‘I came here in a car. Can you tell me its number?’

  Jyotishka answered this correctly and added, ‘But you have another car. And the number of that one is WMF 6232.’

  Mr Tarafdar picked out another boy from the audience.

  ‘Did you sit for an exam this year?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. Class X,’ the boy replied.

  ‘Jyotishka, can you tell us how much he got in Bengali?’

  ‘Yes. He got eighty-one. In fact, he got the highest marks in Bengali this year.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right! But how did you guess? Who told you—?’

  The boy’s remaining words were drowned in thunderous applause.

  ‘We must go backstage and thank Tarafdar,’ Feluda said.

  Mr Tarafdar was sitting in front of a mirror, removing his make-up when we found him. He beamed as he saw us.

  ‘How did you like my show? Tell me frankly, sir.’

  ‘Two of your items were truly remarkable. One was your hypnotism, and the other was this child. Where did you find him?’

  ‘He used to live in Nikunjabihari Lane, near Kalighat. His real name is Nayan. I found the name Jyotishka for him. Please don’t tell anyone else.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Feluda. ‘But how exactly did you come to know about him?’

  ‘His father brought him to me, in the hope that Nayan’s power with numbers might help add to their family income. They’re not very well off, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure Nayan would have no problem at all in making money. Does he not live with his father any more?’

  ‘No. I have kept him in my own house. A private tutor has been arranged for him, and I’ve had a doctor work out his diet. He is going to be well looked after, I assure you.’

  ‘Yes, but that would mean spending a lot of money on him, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I am aware of that. But I also realize Nayan is a gold mine. If initially I have to borrow from friends to raise enough funds, I wouldn’t mind doing that because I know I can recover whatever they lend me, in no time.’

  ‘Hmm . . . but ideally, you ought to look for a sponsor.’

  ‘You’re right. I will contact the right people, in due course . . . just give it a little time.’

  ‘All right. There are only two things I’d like to say, and then we’ll leave you in peace. One—make sure you do not lose this gold mine. You really must keep an eye on that boy, at all times. And second, did I see journalists sitting in the second row during your show?’

  ‘Yes. Eleven journalists and reporters came to see the show this evening. They’re all going to write about it next Friday. I don’t think there’s any cause for concern there, at least not until the full story gets printed.’

  ‘Very well. But please remember that if there are any enquiries made regarding Nayan, or if someone wants to meet him, or anything suspicious happens, I am here to help you.’

  ‘Thank you very much, sir. And . . . er . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Please call me Sunil, Mr Mitter.’

  Three

  To my surprise, Sunil Tarafdar rang us on Tuesday. Surely the press reporters were not going to report anything for another couple of days?

  Feluda spoke briefly on the phone, then told me what had happened.

  ‘The news has spread, you see, Topshe,’ he said. ‘After all, eight hundred people saw his show on Sunday. A lot of them must have talked about Nayan. Anyway, the upshot was that Tarafdar got four telephone calls. Each one of these four people are wealthy and important, and they all want to talk to Nayan. Tarafdar asked them to come after nine tomorrow morning. Each one will be given fifteen minutes, and they’ve been told three other people will be present at the interview—that’s you, me and Lalmohan Babu. Ring him now and tell him.’

  ‘I will, but who are these four people?’

  ‘An American, a businessman from north India, an Anglo-Indian and a Bengali. The American is supposed to be an impresario. Tarafdar wants us to be around because he’s not sure he can handle the situation alone.’

  When I rang Lalmohan Babu, he decided to come over at once. ‘Srinath!’ he yelled as he came in and sat down in his favourite couch. Srinath was our cook. He appeared with fresh tea in just a few minutes.

  ‘What’s cooking, Felu Babu?’ Lalmohan Babu asked with a grin. ‘Do I smell something familiar?’

  ‘You are imagining things, my friend. Nothing’s happened yet for anything to start cooking.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that boy constantly. What an amazing power he’s got, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. But these things are entirely unpredictable. One day, without any apparent reason, he may lose this power. If that happens, there won’t be any difference left between Nayan and other ordinary boys of his age.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Anyway, we’re going to Tarafdar’s house tomorrow morning, right?’

  ‘Yes, but let me tell you something. I am not going in my professional capacity.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I will simply be a silent spectator. If anyone has to talk, it will be you.’

  ‘Hey, you really mean that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Very well, Felu Babu. I shall do my best.’

  Mr Tarafdar lived in Ekdalia Road. His house must have been built over fifty years ago. It had two storeys and a small strip of a garden near the front gate. An armed guard stood at the gate. Mr Tarafdar had clearly taken Feluda’s advice. The guard opened the gate on being given Feluda’s name. As we made our way to the main door, Feluda said under his breath, ‘Within two years, Tarafdar will leave this house and move elsewhere, you mark my words.’

  A bearer opened the door and invited us in. We followed him into the drawing room. The room wasn’t large, but was tastefully furnished. Sunil Tarafdar arrived a minute later, accompanied by a huge Alsatian. Feluda, I knew, loved dogs. No matter how large or ferocious a dog might be, Feluda simply couldn’t resist the temptation to stroke its back. He did the same with this Alsatian.

  ‘He’s called Badshah,’ Mr Tarafdar informed us. ‘He’s twelve years old and a very good watchdog.’

  ‘Excellent. I am please to see your house so well-protected. Well, here we are, fifteen minutes before the others, just as you had asked.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Mitter. I knew you’d be punctual.’

  ‘Did you take this house on rent?’

  ‘No, sir. My father built it. He was a well-known attorney. I grew up in this house.’

  ‘Aren’t you married?’

  ‘No.’ Mr Tarafdar smiled. ‘I am in no hurry to get married. I must get my show established first.’

  The same bearer came in with tea and samosas. Feluda picked up a samosa and said, ‘I am not going to utter a single word today. This gentleman will do the talking. You do know who he is, don’t you?’

  ‘Certainly!’ Mr Tarafdar exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. ‘Who doesn’t know the famous writer of crime thrillers, Lalmohan Ganguli?’

  Lalmohan Babu acknowledged this compliment with a small salute, thereby indicating openly that he thought modesty was a waste of time.

  Feluda finished his samosa and lit a Charminar.

  ‘I’d like to tell you something quite frankly, Sunil,’ he began. ‘I noticed an absence of showmanship in your performance. A modern mag
ician like you mustn’t neglect that particular aspect. Your hypnotism and Nayan are both remarkable, no doubt, but today’s audience expects a bit of glamour.’

  ‘I know that, sir. I did not have enough resources to add glamour to my show. But now I think that lapse is going to be remedied.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I have found a sponsor.’

  ‘What! Already?’

  ‘Yes. I was about to tell you myself. I don’t think I need worry any more about money—at least, not for the moment.’

  ‘May I ask who this sponsor is?’

  ‘Excuse me, sir, but he wants to keep his identity a secret.’

  ‘But how did it happen? Are you allowed to tell me that?’

  ‘Why, yes, by all means, sir. What happened is that a relative of this sponsor saw Nayan on the stage on Sunday, and told him about it. My sponsor rang me the same evening and said he’d like to see Nayan immediately. I told him to come at 10 a.m. the following morning. He arrived right on time, and met Nayan. He then asked him a few questions, which, of course, Nayan answered correctly. The gentleman stared at him for a few seconds, quite dumbfounded. Then he seemed to pull himself together and gave me a fantastic proposal.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘He said he’d bear all the expenses related to my show. In fact, he’s going to form a company called “Miracles Unlimited”. I am going to perform on behalf of this company, although no one is going to be told who its owner is. I will get all the credit if my shows are successful. My sponsor will keep the profit. Nayan and I will both be paid a monthly salary. The figure he quoted was really quite generous. I accepted all these terms for the simple reason that it removed a major worry at once—money!’

  ‘But didn’t you ask him why he was so interested?’

  ‘Oh yes. He told me rather a strange story. Apparently, this man has been passionately interested in magic since his childhood. He had taught himself a few tricks and had even bought the necessary equipment. But before he could take it up seriously, his father found out what he was doing, and was furious. My sponsor was afraid of his father for he had always been very stern with him. So, in order to please his father, he gave up magic and began to do something else to earn his living. In time, he became quite wealthy, but he couldn’t forget his old passion. “I have earned a lot of money,” he said to me, “but that has not satisfied my soul. Something tells me this young child will bring me the fulfilment I have craved all my life.” That was all, Mr Mitter.’

  ‘Have you actually signed a contract?’

  ‘Yes. I feel so much more relieved now. He’s paying for Nayan’s tutor, his doctor, his clothes and everything else. Why, he’s even promised to pay for me to go and have a show in Madras!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. You see, I got a call from a Mr Reddy from Madras, just a few minutes before my sponsor arrived. A South Indian gentleman who lives in Calcutta had seen my show on Sunday and rung Mr Reddy to tell him about it. Mr Reddy owns a theatre. He invited me to go to Madras and perform in his theatre. I said I needed time to think about it. But in just a few minutes my sponsor arrived. When he heard about Mr Reddy’s invitation, he told me I shouldn’t waste time thinking, and should cable Mr Reddy at once, accepting his offer. All expenses would be paid.’

  ‘But surely you’ll have to account for what you spend?’

  ‘Of course. I have a close friend called Shankar who acts as my manager. He’ll take care of my accounts. He’s a most efficient man.’

  A bearer turned up and announced that a foreigner had arrived with a Bengali gentleman. I glanced at my watch. It was only a few seconds past 9 a.m.

  ‘Show them in,’ said Mr Tarafdar.

  Lalmohan Babu took a deep breath. Feluda remained silent.

  The American who entered the room had white hair, but the smoothness of his skin told me he wasn’t very old. Mr Tarafdar rose to greet him, and invited him to sit down.

  ‘I am Sam Kellerman,’ said the American, ‘and with me is Mr Basak, our Indian representative.’ Mr Basak, too, was offered a seat.

  Lalmohan Babu began his task.

  ‘You are an impresoria—I mean, impresario?’

  ‘That’s right. People in America are very interested in India these days. The Mahabharat has been performed as a play, and has also been made into a movie, as I’m sure you know. That has opened new avenues for your heritage.’

  ‘So you are interested in our culture?’

  ‘I am interested in that kid.’

  ‘Eh? You take an interest in young goats?’

  I had been afraid that this might happen. Lalmohan Babu obviously didn’t know Americans referred to children as ‘kids’.

  Mr Basak came to the rescue. ‘He is talking of Jyotishka, the boy who appears in Mr Tarafdar’s show,’ he explained quickly.

  ‘What exactly do you want to know about him?’ Mr Tarafdar asked.

  ‘I want,’ Mr Kellerman said slowly and clearly, ‘to present this boy before the American people. Only in a country like India could someone be born with such an amazing power. But before I make any final decision, I’d like to see him and test him for myself.’

  ‘Mr Kellerman is one of the three most renowned impresarios in the world,’ Mr Basak put in. ‘He’s been doing this work for more than twenty years. He’s prepared to pay handsomely for this young boy. Besides, the boy will get his own share regularly from the proceeds of every show. All that will be mentioned in the contract.’

  Mr Tarafdar smiled. ‘Mr Kellerman,’ he said gently, ‘that wonder boy is a part of my own show. The question of his leaving me does not arise. I am shortly going to leave for a tour of south India, starting with Madras. People there have heard of Jyotishka and are eagerly looking forward to his arrival. I am sorry, but I must refuse your offer, Mr Kellerman.’

  Kellerman’s face turned red. After a brief pause, he said a little hoarsely, ‘Is it possible to see the child at all? And to ask him a few questions?’

  ‘That’s no problem,’ said Mr Tarafdar and told a bearer to fetch Nayan.

  Nayan arrived a few seconds later, and went and stood by Mr Tarafdar’s chair. He looked no different from other ordinary boys, except that his eyes held a quiet intelligence. Mr Kellerman simply stared at him for a few moments.

  Then he said, without removing his eyes from the boy, ‘Can he tell me the number of my bank account?’

  ‘Go on, Nayan, tell him,’ Mr Tarafdar said encouragingly.

  ‘But which account is he talking about?’ Nayan sounded puzzled. ‘He’s got three accounts in three different banks!’

  Kellerman’s face quickly lost its colour. He swallowed hard before saying, in the same hoarse voice, ‘City Bank of New York.’

  ‘12128-74,’ said Nayan promptly.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Kellerman’s eyes looked as though they would pop out of their sockets any minute. ‘I am offering you twenty thousand dollars right now,’ he said, turning to Mr Tarafdar. ‘He could never earn that much from your magic shows, could he?’

  ‘I’ve only just started, Mr Kellerman. I shall travel with Nayan all over my country. Then there’s the rest of the world to be seen. People anywhere in the world would love a magic show, and you’ve just seen what Nayan is capable of doing. How can you be so sure we’ll never earn the kind of money you’re talking about on our own merit?’

  ‘Does he have a father?’

  ‘Does that matter? Nayan is in my care, officially I am his guardian.’

  ‘Sir,’ Lalmohan Babu piped up unexpectedly, ‘in our philosophy, sir, to make a sacrifice is more important than to acquire a possession!’

  Mr Basak rose to his feet. ‘You are letting a golden opportunity slip through your fingers, Mr Tarafdar,’ he said. ‘Please think very carefully.’

  ‘I have.’

  Mr Kellerman was now obliged to take his leave. He glanced once at Mr Basak, who took out his visiting card from his pocket and handed it to Mr Tarafdar. ‘It’s
got my address and telephone number. Let me know if you change your mind.’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’

  Mr Tarafdar went to see them off. Nayan went back with the same bearer.

  ‘Basak is a clever man,’ Feluda remarked, ‘or he wouldn’t be an American impresario’s agent. And he must be wealthy, too. He was reeking of French aftershave, did you notice? But there was a trace of shaving cream under his chin. I don’t think he’s an early riser. He probably had to shave in a hurry this morning simply to keep his appointment with us.’

  Four

  ‘Well, that’s one down. Let’s see how long the second one takes. He should be here any minute now.’ Mr Tarafdar said. The doorbell rang in a couple of minutes. A man in a dark suit was ushered in. ‘Good morning,’ greeted Mr Tarafdar, rising. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch your name on the telephone. You must be . . . ?’

  ‘Tiwari. Devkinandan Tiwari.’

  ‘I see. Please have a seat.’

  ‘Thank you. Have you heard of T H Syndicate?’

  Lalmohan Babu and Mr Tarafdar looked at each other in silence. Clearly, they had not. Feluda was obliged to open his mouth.

  ‘Your business has something to do with imports and exports, right? You have an office in Pollock Street?”

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Mr Tiwari said, looking a little suspiciously at Feluda.

  ‘These three people are my friends. I hope you won’t mind talking to me in their presence?’ Mr Tarafdar asked.

  ‘Oh no, not in the least. All I want to do, Mr Tarafdar, is ask that young chap a question. If he can give me the correct answer, I shall be eternally grateful.’

  Nayan was brought back into the room. Mr Tarafdar laid a hand on his back and said kindly, ‘I’m sorry, Nayan, but you have to answer another question. All right?’ Nayan nodded. Mr Tarafdar turned to Mr Tiwari. ‘Go ahead, sir. But please remember the answer to your question must be in numbers.’

  ‘Yes, I know. That is precisely why I’ve come.’ Mr Tiwari fixed his eyes on Nayan. ‘Can you tell me the combination of my chest?’

  Nayan stared back, looking profoundly puzzled.