by Satyajit Ray
‘Nothing at this moment. I’m here simply on a holiday. My latest book was published only a couple of months ago. Dumbstruck in Damascus it was called.’
‘Another best-seller?’
‘Well . . . four thousand copies have been sold already, heh heh.’ Mr Naskar smiled and turned to Peter. ‘Have you thought any more about my proposal?’ he asked, coming straight to the point.
‘I’ve decided to sell the ruby.’
‘That’s excellent.’
‘But not to you.’
‘Are you selling it to Dandania?’
‘Yes, since his was the first offer I received.’
‘No, Mr Robertson. You will sell your ruby to me.’
‘How is that possible, Mr Naskar? I’ve told Dandania already. My mind is made up.’
‘I’ll tell you how it’s going to be possible. You don’t believe me, do you? All right, let’s get someone totally impartial to explain things. Mr Ganguli!’
‘Y-yes?’ Lalmohan Babu looked up, startled.
‘Do you mind stepping forward and standing here on this rug?’
‘M-me?’
‘Yes. I want you as you have no interest in the ruby, and you’ve got a pleasant, amiable nature.’
‘What has that to do with anything?’
‘Don’t be afraid, Mr Ganguli. You’ll come to no harm, I promise you. The thing is, you see, I haven’t yet told you of a special skill that I acquired years ago. I can hypnotize people, and get them to give me correct answers to vexing questions. The reason for this is that when a person’s been hypnotized, he temporarily loses the ability to make things up and tell lies. This ability, that comes naturally to most people, is replaced by an extraordinary power. A hypnotized person always tells the truth. I’ll soon prove this to you.’
Before Lalmohan Babu got a chance to protest, Mr Naskar caught him by his shoulders and dragged him to stand on a rug in the middle of the room. Then he switched off all the lights and took out a small red torch from his pocket. I glanced at Feluda, but found him watching the scene with an impassive face. I knew he sometimes quite enjoyed it if anyone involved Lalmohan Babu in a bit of harmless fun.
Mr Naskar switched on the torch and shone it on Lalmohan Babu’s face, moving it slowly. ‘Look at this carefully, Mr Ganguli,’ he whispered, ‘and forget everything else. You are about to become a totally different person . . . a new man with a special magical power to tell the truth . . . that no one knows but you . . . just you . . . yes, yes, yes, yes . . .’
Lalmohan Babu’s eyes soon began to look glazed. He stared into space unseeingly. His mouth fell open. Mr Naskar stopped moving the torch, but did not switch it off. After a few seconds of silence, he asked his first question.
‘What is your name?’
‘Mr Know All, alias Lalmohan Ganguli, alias Jatayu.’ Mr Know All? I had never heard anyone call him that! ‘How many people are present in this room?’
‘Six.’
‘Are they all Indian?’
‘No, there are two Englishmen among them.’
‘What are their names?’
‘Peter Robertson and Tom Maxwell.’
‘Where in England do they come from?’
‘Lancashire.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Peter is thirty-four years and three months. Tom’s age is thirty-three years and nine months.’
‘Why are they visiting India?’
‘Peter wants to return Robertson’s Ruby to India.’
‘Who has actually got the ruby?’
‘Tom Maxwell.’
‘What is the future of this ruby?
‘It will be sold.’
‘To Ganesh Dandania?’
‘No.’
‘But he’s already made an offer, hasn’t he?
‘Yes, but he’ll go back on his word. He’ll now offer only seven lakhs for it.’
‘And Peter won’t sell his ruby to him. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then who will he sell it to?’
‘Ardhendu Naskar.’
‘For how much?’
‘Twelve lakhs.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Mr Naskar switched the torch off and shook Lalmohan Babu gently. I saw him give a start. By the time Mr Naskar came back to his chair after turning the lights back on again, Lalmohan Babu was once more his normal self.
‘Well, Mr Robertson?’ Mr Naskar asked.
‘That was most impressive,’ Peter replied.
‘Now do you believe me?’
‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘You needn’t think at all. I am in no great hurry. Go and see Dandania tomorrow. Sell your ruby for seven lakhs, if you so wish. However, should you change your mind, my own offer of twelve lakhs still stands.’
Peter was spared the necessity of making a reply by the arrival of Mr Naskar’s cook. ‘Dinner has been served,’ he announced.
We rose and made our way to the dining room.
Seven
We left for Phulberey after a most sumptuous meal. By the time we got there, it was a quarter past ten. A crowd had gathered in a large open field. Not many of them were Santhals; obviously, people from towns nearby had arrived to see the dance. The full moon and torches that burnt here and there made it possible to see everything clearly.
Inspector Chaubey emerged from the crowd. ‘You’ll find many other familiar figures here,’ he informed us.
‘Why, who else has turned up?’
‘I saw Kishorilal and Chandu Mallik. And that gentleman who’s an expert on Birbhum.’
‘Jagannath Chatterjee. Well, that’s good news. When is the dance going to start?’
‘Any minute now. Look, the dancers are all standing together.’ Feluda spotted Peter. ‘Don’t get lost, Peter,’ he called. ‘If we don’t stay relatively close to each other, going back together won’t be easy.’
I saw Tom getting his camera ready with a flash gun. Mr Naskar, too, was holding a small camera in his hand. ‘Do you have a studio of your own?’ he asked Tom.
‘No. I am not a studio photographer. I take photographs while I travel. I only do freelance work. My photos have been printed in several magazines and journals. In fact, this assignment in India is being paid for by the National Geographic.’
The drums began to roll. All of us moved forward to get a better view. About thirty women, dressed in their traditional costume and jewellery, were standing in a semicircle, holding hands and swaying gently to the rhythm of the music. Two men playing flutes sat with the drummers. The drummers wore bells around their ankles.
Lalmohan Babu came and stood by my side. ‘Now my left eye is twitching. Heaven knows what’s in store,’ he muttered.
‘Getting hypnotized didn’t have any adverse effects on you, I hope?’ I asked.
‘No, no. It’s been an amazing experience, you know. I can’t remember even a single word that I spoke.’
In the light of a torch, I saw Chandu Mallik smoking a beedi and moving slowly in the direction of the dancers. But no. It was not the dancers he was interested in. He had seen Tom, and was sneaking up to him.
‘We must keep an eye on him, Lalmohan Babu,’ I whispered. ‘Yes, you’re quite right.’
But Tom had moved from where he had been standing to a different spot, possibly to get a better angle. Were all photographers restless like him?
Chandu Mallik came and stood in front of us. He was frowning. His hands were stuffed into his pockets. Then he moved on in a different direction. Our group dispersed gradually. Lalmohan Babu and I stayed together, trying to spot the others for we were all supposed to regroup once the dance was over. There was Feluda in the distance. Chaubey had been standing next to him even a moment ago, but now I couldn’t see him. Mr Naskar was busy clicking; I saw his camera flash more than once. The dancers were still swaying with a slow and easy grace.
Suddenly, I saw Kishorilal approaching Peter. What was he going to te
ll him? Curious, I left Lalmohan Babu and moved forward to hear their conversation.
‘Good evening,’ Peter said to Kishorilal. ‘Our appointment tomorrow still stands, I hope?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Your father’s not likely to change his mind, is he?’
‘No, sir. His mind is made up.’
‘Good.’
Kishorilal left. Jagannath Chatterjee took his place.
‘Hello, Mr Chatterjee,’ greeted Peter. ‘I’m glad I’ve run into you. Will you please explain to me the purpose of this dance? I mean, does this signify anything?’
‘Why, certainly,’ Mr Chatterjee came closer and began explaining various aspects of tribal culture. I returned to rejoin Lalmohan Babu.
Feluda was now standing near a burning torch. I saw him light a cigarette. The first dance came to an end, and the second one began. The rhythm of this one was much faster, and a group of singers joined the drummers. The dancers increased their pace to match the rhythm, bending and straightening their bodies, their feet rising and falling in a uniform pattern.
‘Very exciting,’ remarked Lalmohan Babu.
Mr Naskar passed us by, camera in hand. ‘How do you like it?’ he asked, but moved on without waiting for an answer.
Feldua saw us and walked across.
‘Why, Felu Babu,’ Lalmohan Babu asked, ‘why are you frowning even on a joyous occasion like this? Those drummers are really playing well, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, but there’s something not quite right over here. I feel distinctly uneasy. Have you seen Tom Maxwell?’
‘I saw him a few minutes ago. But I don’t know where he went.’
‘We must find him,’ said Feluda and moved to the left.
‘Your cousin needs our help, I think,’ Lalmohan Babu said to me and leapt forward to follow Feluda, dragging me with him. In a few seconds, we found ourselves behind the dancers. The crowd was thinner here. I could see Chandu Mallik and Kishorilal roaming about. Where was Tom?
There was Peter, standing alone and looking around. ‘Have you seen Tom?’ he asked Feluda.
‘No, we’ve been looking for him, too.’
‘I don’t like this at all.’
Peter moved off in one direction to look for Tom. We went to the other side. Feluda soon got lost in the crowd. The music and the dancing were getting faster every minute, but there was no time to stop and enjoy it. Feluda reappeared suddenly. ‘Chaubey? Have you seen him?’ he asked anxiously.
‘No. Why, Feluda, what’s—?’
But he was already a few steps ahead of us, calling, ‘Inspector Chaubey! Inspector Chaubey!’
Chaubey must have been standing somewhere close by, for only a minute later, he and Feluda came out of the crowd and began hurrying away.
‘What’s the matter?’ Lalmohan Babu asked, struggling to keep pace with them.
‘Maxwell,’ Feluda replied briefly.
We broke into a run. Feluda stopped abruptly near a tree. A torch was burning about ten feet away. In its light, we saw Tom Maxwell lying on the ground. His camera and his bag containing other equipment were lying on the grass beside him.
‘Is he . . . is he dead?’ Chaubey asked, breathing hard.
‘No,’ Feluda replied, bending over Tom and taking one of his wrists between his fingers, ‘I can feel his pulse. He is not dead . . . at least, not yet.’
Chaubey took out a small torch from his pocket and shone it on Tom’s face. His eyes seemed to flicker for a second. Feluda shook him by his shoulders.
‘Tom! Maxwell!’
At this moment, another figure tore through the crowd and came up panting. It was Peter. ‘What’s the matter with Tom? My God, is he . . . he’s not . . . ?’
‘No, he’s just unconscious. But I think he’s coming round.’
Tom had begun to stir. Now he opened his eyes, wincing. ‘Where does it hurt?’ Feluda asked urgently. With an effort, Tom raised a hand to indicate a spot at the back of his head.
In the meantime, Peter had picked up his bag and looked inside. He glanced up, the pallor on his face clearly visible even in the semi-darkness.
‘The ruby is gone!’ he cried hoarsely.
We returned to Mr Naskar’s house with Tom. When told about the theft, Mr Naskar’s face became a study in fury and disappointment.
‘You should be happy!’ he snapped. ‘You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Robertson’s Ruby came back to India all right, though now you’ll never be able to go on that world tour.’
One Dr Sinha from the neighbourhood was called to examine Tom.
‘There is a swelling on his head where he was struck. Someone attacked him with a heavy object,’ Dr Sinha said.
‘Could this blow have killed him?’ Peter wanted to know.
‘Yes, if his attacker had hit him harder, your friend might well have been killed. But that did not happen, so please don’t dwell on it. Give him an ice-pack which will help the swelling to subside. If the pain gets very bad, take a pain-killer, Mr Maxwell. There’s nothing else to be done at this moment. Don’t worry though. You’ll recover soon enough.’
Chaubey opened his mouth when Dr Sinha had gone.
‘Mr Maxwell,’ he said, ‘you didn’t actually get to see who attacked you, did you?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘I wonder what his motive was. To steal the ruby? But not too many people knew the ruby was with Tom Maxwell, and not Peter Robertson. In fact, the only people who knew this fact were Mr Mitter, Mr Ganguli, Tapesh, Kishorilal, Jagannath Chatterjee, Mr Naskar and myself.’
‘What are you saying, Inspector?’ Mr Naskar protested. ‘I would have got that stone, anyway. Why should I do something absurd like this? Why, for heaven’s sake, Tom might have been killed! Would I risk being charged with murder when all I had to do was just wait for another day?’
‘It’s no use arguing, Mr Naskar. You are a prime suspect. What Mr Ganguli said when he was supposedly hypnotized is of no consequence. After all, there was no guarantee that his words would come true, was there? There was every chance of that ruby being sold to someone else. We all know it was no ordinary ruby, and you are no ordinary collector. So why shouldn’t I assume that you tried to get there first, without paying a paisa for it?’
‘Nonsense! Nonsense!’ said Mr Naskar, just a little feebly. ‘Apart from yourself, there’s Kishorilal to be considered,’ Chaubey went on. ‘His father was going to buy it, but that would not have been of any use to Kishori. He knew its value, and he knew where to find it. So if he found Maxwell alone, he might simply have given in to temptation, who knows? . . . A third suspect is Chandu Mallik. He had already threatened to settle scores with Tom. But did he know about the ruby? I don’t think so. If he did find it, it must have been by accident. After knocking Tom down, he might have slipped his hand into his bag to look for money, and come across the ruby. This possibility cannot be ruled out . . . Then there is Jagannath Chatterjee. He knew about the ruby and where it was kept. Pure greed might have prompted him to remove it.’
‘You have left out one important suspect, Inspector,’ Feluda said. ‘Who?’
‘Peter Robertson.’
‘What!’ Peter jumped to his feet.
‘Yes, Peter. You had wanted to hand over the ruby to the museum in Calcutta. Your friend opposed the idea. You agreed to sell it because you didn’t want to lose your friend. But who’s to say you didn’t change your mind? What if you went back to your original decision and found a way of getting the ruby back without risking your friendship with Tom?’
Peter stared at Feluda, rendered speechless for the moment. Then he raised his arms over his head and said slowly, ‘There is a very simple way to find out if I’m the culprit. If I did indeed take the ruby back, I would still have it with me, wouldn’t I? I mean, I have been with all of your throughout since we found Tom. So search me, Inspector Chaubey. Come on, search me!’
‘Very well,’ said Chaubey and searched Peter thoroughly. He found nothi
ng.
‘All right, Inspector,’ Feluda said. ‘Since you took the trouble to search Peter, I think you should do the same for each one of us.’ Chaubey seemed to hesitate. ‘Come along now, Inspector, there is no reason to leave us out,’ Feluda said again. This time, Chaubey stepped forward and searched everyone in the room, including me. Still he didn’t find the ruby.
‘Mr Robertson,’ he asked, ‘would you like me to carry out an official investigation?’
‘Of course!’ Peter said firmly. ‘I want that ruby back at any cost.’
Eight
Tom seemed a lot better in the morning. He was still in pain, but the swelling had gone down and, hopefully, in a couple of days he’d recover completely.
But he couldn’t get over the shock of having lost the precious ruby. ‘I never thought I’d have to leave that stone here with an unknown criminal,’ Peter kept saying.
‘Oh, why didn’t we sell it to Dandania the first day?’ moaned Tom time and again. It was difficult to tell who was more sorry at the loss.
Inspector Chaubey came to our room around 11 a.m.
‘I’ve just been to see Tom,’ he said.
‘Tom’s doing fine. Have you made any progress?’ Feluda asked. ‘One of the suspects has had to be eliminated from my list.’
‘Really?’ Who?’
‘Kishorilal.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I happen to know Kishori pretty well. It’s not like him to do anything so reckless. Besides, his father has recently bought him a plastics factory. Kishori has been going there regularly. Dandania, I know, keeps a careful eye on his son. If Kishori stole that ruby simply to sell it and make a packet for himself, his father would most certainly come to know, and then there would be hell to pay. So Kishori is out.’
‘I see. What about Chandu Malik?’
‘As far as I can make out, Maxwell was attacked at around a quarter to eleven last night. Chandu had left the dance before that and was sitting with friends having a drink in a small shop. There are several witnesses who’d vouch for him. I’ve already spoken to most of them. That rules out Chandu, too.’
