The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume I (54 page)

We had left the house at ten o’clock. By the time we got back, it was half past twelve. Feluda wanted to return the sword to Mahitosh Babu, but we discovered on our return that he had gone with Mr Sanyal to visit the Head of the Forest Department in the forest bungalow in Kalbuni. So we went to our room, taking the sword with us.

Before we did this, however, we spent some time on the ground floor. Feluda went to the trophy room. I could not tell what he was thinking, but he began to examine all the guns that were displayed there. He picked up each one, and inspected its barrel, its butt, trigger and safety catch. Lalmohan Babu began to ask him
something, but Feluda told him to be quiet.

‘This is a time to think, Lalmohan Babu,’ he said, ‘not to chat.’ By this time, Lalmohan Babu had become quite familiar with Feluda’s moods, so he promptly shut up.

Feluda finished inspecting the trophy room and turned to go upstairs. We followed silently. He spoke again on reaching the veranda on the first floor. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, stopping suddenly and staring at Devtosh Babu’s room. ‘Why is the elder brother’s room locked?’

There was a padlock on the door. Where could he have gone? Why had he left the room locked? Feluda said nothing more. We reached our room.

Feluda spent the next few minutes sitting quietly, frowning; then he got up and paced restlessly, stopped short and sat down again. Two minutes later, he was back on his feet. I knew this mood well. He always acted like this as he got closer to unravelling a complex mystery.

‘Since there is no one about, and Devtosh Babu’s room is locked,’ he said suddenly, ‘it might not be a bad idea to do a bit of snooping.’

He left the room. I stuck my head out of the door and saw him go into Mahitosh Babu’s study. I came back into our room to find Lalmohan Babu stretched on the leopard skin on the floor. He was using its head as a pillow. Clearly, seeing a tiger’s pug mark in the forest had gone a long way to boost his courage. After a few seconds of silence, he remarked, ‘Thank goodness I thought of dedicating my book to Mahitosh Sinha-Roy! Could we ever have had such a thrilling experience if I hadn’t? Just take this morning: a bullet in a bamboo grove, a snake in the grass, pug marks of a Royal Bengal, a ruined old temple, a famous peepul tree . . . what more could anyone want? All that’s left to make the experience complete is an encounter with the man-eater.’

‘Do you really want that?’ I asked.

‘I am not scared any more,’ he replied, yawning noisily. ‘If you have Madhavlal on one side, and Felu Mitter on the other, no man-eater can do anything to you!’

He closed his eyes, and seemed to go to sleep. I picked up Mahitosh Babu’s book and had read a few pages, when Feluda returned. His footsteps made Lalmohan Babu open his eyes and sit up.

‘Did you find anything?’

‘No. I did not find what I was looking for, but that is what is significant.’ After a brief pause, Feluda asked, ‘Do you remember why Yudhisthir’s chariot got stuck to the ground?’

‘Because he told a lie?’

‘Exactly. But these days, a liar doesn’t always get punished by God. Other men have to catch and punish him.’

I could not ask him what he meant, for a jeep arrived as he finished speaking. Only a few minutes later, a servant turned up to say Mahitosh Babu had returned, and lunch had been served.

Despite all that had happened, we had all enjoyed our meals every day. Mahitosh Babu obviously had a very good cook. Today, the food looked inviting enough, but our host began a conversation on a rather sombre note. ‘Mr Mitter,’ he said solemnly, ‘since you have discovered the meaning of Adityanarayan’s message, I don’t think I have the right to keep you here any longer. If you like, I can make arrangements for your return. One of my men is going to Jalpaiguri. He can book your tickets for you.’

Feluda did not reply immediately. Then he said slowly, ‘I was thinking of going back myself. You have been an excellent host, but naturally we cannot stay here indefinitely. But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here tonight and leave tomorrow morning. You see, I am a detective, and there’s been a murder. I’m sure you’ll appreciate why I want to stay a bit longer to see if any light can be thrown on the case. It is immaterial whether I can discover the truth, or the police do their job. I only want to know what happened, and how it happened.’

Mahitosh Babu stopped eating and looked straight at Feluda. ‘There is no one in this house who would plan a murder in cold blood, Mr Mitter,’ he said firmly.

Feluda paid no attention. ‘Where is your brother?’ he asked casually. ‘Has he been taken somewhere else? His room was locked.’

Mahitosh Babu replied in the same grave tone, ‘My brother is in his room. But since last night, his . . . ailment has become worse. He has to be restrained, or he might cause serious damage to whoever came his way, yourself included. Sometimes, he starts imagining he’s seen people who died hundreds of years ago—you know, characters out of a history book. Then he attacks them if he thinks they did anything wrong in the past. Once he mistook Torit for Kalapahar and nearly throttled him to death. One of the servants saw him, luckily, and managed to take him away.’

Feluda continued to eat. ‘Did you know,’ he said conversationally, ‘the death of Mr Sengupta is not the only mystery we are dealing with? Someone ran off with your treasure, possibly the same night.’

‘What!’ Mahitosh Babu turned into a statue, holding his food a few inches from his mouth. ‘You mean you went and checked?’

‘Yes, the treasure’s gone, but we found the sword, with bloodstains on it.’

Mahitosh Babu opened his mouth to speak, but could only gulp in silence. Feluda dropped the third bombshell. ‘When the tiger attacked Mr Sengupta, someone shot at the tiger. The bullet hit a bamboo stem, but it is likely that it grazed the tiger’s body, for we found a few strands of hair. So it seems Torit Sengupta was not the only one who had gone to the forest that night. Different people with different purposes in mind . . .’

‘Poacher!’ Mr Sanyal spoke unexpectedly. ‘It must have been a poacher who entered the forest after Torit was killed. It was this poacher who shot at the tiger.’

Feluda nodded slowly. ‘That possibility cannot be ruled out. So, for the moment, we need not worry about where the bullet came from. However, we still have the bloodstained sword and the missing treasure to explain.’

‘Never mind the sword. The treasure is far more important,’ Mahitosh Babu declared. ‘Mr Mitter, we’ve got to find it. The history of the family of Sinha-Roys will remain incomplete unless it is found.’

‘Very well,’ Feluda suggested, ‘if that is the case, why don’t we all return to the spot later today? It is very close to the temple of the Chopped Goddess.’

Mahitosh Babu agreed to accompany us back to the forest. However, torrential rain—which began at half past three and continued well after six—forced us to abandon our plan. Feluda had been looking withdrawn; now he looked positively depressed. It was obvious that Mahitosh Babu wanted us to leave. If the weather did not improve the next day, we might well have to go back without solving the mystery surrounding Mr Sengupta’s death. How another visit to the temple could make a difference, I could not tell, but I knew Feluda was definitely on to something. The occasional glint in
his eyes told me that very clearly.

Unable to sit in our room doing nothing, we came out and stood on the veranda when the grandfather clock struck five. The door to Devtosh Babu’s room was still locked.

‘There’s no one around,’ Lalmohan Babu whispered. ‘Why don’t we try looking through the shutters? What can the man be doing?’

Like many of Lalmohan Babu’s other suggestions, Feluda ignored this one.

The sky cleared after seven. When the stars came out, they looked as if someone had polished them before pasting them on an inky-black sky. Feluda sat on his bed, holding the sword. Lalmohan Babu and I were standing at the window, admiring the stars, when suddenly he clutched at my sleeve and said in a low voice, ‘A small torch!’

The chowkidar’s hut was visible from our window. There was a large tree near it. A man was standing under it. Another man—carrying a torch—was approaching him. His torch was of the kind that can be plugged into an electric socket and recharged. It had a small bulb, and an equally small point, but the light it gave out was very bright.

Feluda switched the light off in our room and joined us at the window.

‘Madhavlal!’ he murmured. I, too, had recognized the man who had been waiting under the tree as Madhavlal, for I could vaguely see his yellow shirt even in the dark. But it was impossible to see the other man. It could have been Mahitosh Babu, his brother, Mr Sanyal, or someone else.

The torch was switched off, but the two men were still standing close, talking. After a while, the yellow shirt moved away. The torch light came back on and returned to the house. Feluda waited for a few seconds before switching on our own light.

Lalmohan Babu was probably carrying out an investigation on his own. I saw him slip out to the veranda and return a moment later.

‘What did you see? Is that door still locked?’ Feluda asked. Lalmohan Babu gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Did you really think it was Devtosh Babu who was speaking with Madhavlal?’

‘Yes. I told you I did not trust him. A madman must not be trusted. We used to have one where I live. He was often seen standing in the middle of the road, throwing stones at passing trams
and buses. Just think how dangerous that was?’

‘What did the locked door prove?’

‘That he didn’t go down just now.’

‘How can you be so sure? Have you heard any noises from that room today? How do you know that room isn’t empty?’

Lalmohan Babu began to look rather crestfallen.

‘Felu Babu, I try so hard to follow your methods and work on the same lines as you, but somehow . . . I get it all wrong!’

‘That is only because you work in reverse gear. You pick your criminal first, then try to dump the crime on him. I try to understand the nature of the crime before looking for the person who might have committed it.’

‘Are you doing the same in this case?’

‘Of course. There is no other way.’

‘But where did you start from?’

‘Kurukshetra.’

After this, Lalmohan Babu did not dare ask another question. When I went to bed that night, I had no problem in falling asleep, for the mosquito nets had been changed. But, in the middle of the night, a sudden shout woke me. I sat up, startled, to find Feluda standing in the middle of the room, clutching Adityanarayan’s sword. Moonlight poured in through an open window, making the weapon shine brightly. Feluda looked steadily at the metal blade, and repeated the word he had just spoken very loudly. Only, this time he lowered his voice.

‘Eureka! Eureka!’ he said.

Thousands of years ago, Archimedes had said the same thing when he had found what he was looking for. There was no way of telling what Feluda had discovered.

Mr Sanyal arrived in our room the following morning, just as we finished our bed-tea. What did he want so early in the morning? I looked at him in surprise, but Feluda greeted him warmly. ‘We haven’t really had the chance to get to know each other, have we?’ he said, offering our visitor a seat. ‘As Mahitosh Babu’s friend, you must have had a lot of interesting experiences yourself.’

Mr Sanyal took a chair opposite the table. ‘Yes. I have known
Mahitosh for fifty years, since our school days.’

‘May I ask you something?’

‘About Mahitosh?’

‘No, about Torit Sengupta.’

‘Yes?’

‘What sort of a man was he? I mean, what was your impression?’

‘He was a very good man. I found him intelligent, diligent and very patient.’

‘How was he at his work?’

‘Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.’

‘Yes, I got that impression myself.’

Mr Sanyal gave Feluda a level look. ‘I have come to make a request, Mr Mitter,’ he said simply.

‘A request?’ Feluda asked, offering him a cigarette. Mr Sanyal accepted it and waited until it had been lit for him. I saw him smoking for the first time. He inhaled deeply before replying. ‘Yes. You have seen a lot in the last three days,’ he said. ‘You are far more clever than ordinary men, so obviously you have drawn your own conclusions from what you’ve seen. Today is probably the last day of your stay. No one knows what the day has in store. No matter what happens today, Mr Mitter, I’d be very grateful if you could keep it to yourself. I am sure Mahitosh would want the same thing. If you look at the history of any old family in Bengal—particularly the zamindars—I’m sure you’ll find a lot of skeletons in their cupboards. The Sinha-Roys are no exception. However, I see no reason why the facts that come to light should be made public. I am making the same appeal to your friend, and to your cousin.’

‘Mr Sanyal,’ Feluda replied, ‘I have enjoyed Mahitosh Babu’s hospitality for three days. I am very grateful to him for his generosity. I can never go back to Calcutta and start maligning him. None of us could do that. I give you my word.’

Mr Sanyal nodded silently. Then Feluda asked another question, possibly because he couldn’t help himself. ‘Devtosh Babu’s room is still locked. Can you explain why?’

Mr Sanyal looked a little oddly at Feluda. ‘By the end of this day, Mr Mitter, the reason will become clear to you.’

‘I take it that the police are still working on this case?’

‘No.’

‘What! Why not?’

‘Well, suspicion has fallen on someone . . . but Mahitosh does not
want the police to harass this person at all.’

‘You mean Devtosh Babu?’

‘Yes, who else could I mean?’

‘But even if that’s true, even if he did kill, he’s not going to be charged or punished in the usual way, is he? I mean, considering his medical condition?’

‘Yes, you are probably right. Nevertheless, the news would spread, wouldn’t it? Mahitosh doesn’t want that to happen.’

‘Simply to save the good name of his family?’

‘Yes. Yes, that’s the reason, Mr Mitter. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’

Mr Sanyal rose, and left.

We left at half past eight. There were two jeeps once again, like the first day. Feluda, Lalmohan Babu and I were in one; in the other were Mahitosh Babu, Mr Sanyal, Madhavlal and a bearer called Parvat Singh. There were three rifles with us today. Madhavlal had his, Mahitosh Babu had another, and the third was with Feluda. He himself had asked for a rifle. Having heard from Madhavlal how he had killed the snake with his revolver, Mahitosh Babu had raised no objection. ‘You can choose whatever you like,’ he had said. ‘The 375 would be suitable for a tiger.’

I did not understand what the number signified, but could see that the rifle was most impressive in size, and probably also in weight.

As a matter of fact, I was the only one who was not armed. Feluda had handed the sword to Lalmohan Babu this morning, saying, ‘Hang on to it. This sword has an important role to play today. You’ll soon get to see what I mean.’ Lalmohan Babu was therefore clutching it tightly, wearing an air of suppressed excitement.

When we woke this morning, the sky was clear. But now it had started to cloud over again. The road being muddy and slippery, we took longer to reach the forest. Each driver took his jeep half a mile further into the forest than the last time, but then could go no further. ‘Never mind,’ Madhavlal said, ‘I know the way. We have to cross a nullah and walk for fifteen minutes to get to the temple.’

We began our journey amidst the rustle of leaves, a cool breeze and the occasional rumble in the sky. Feluda loaded his gun before getting out of the jeep. Mahitosh Babu’s gun was being carried by Parvat Singh. Apparently, he had always accompanied his master on
hunting expeditions. A short but well-built man, he clearly did not lack physical strength.

I saw a herd of deer in a few minutes. A sudden surge of joy filled my heart, but then it leapt in fear. Somewhere in this forest—perhaps not very far away—was a man-eater. Normally, a tiger could easily walk more than twenty miles and travel from one forest to another to look for a prey. But if it was injured, it might not be able to walk very far. In any case, the forest here was not all that big. Large areas of woodland had been cleared to make tea estates, and farms. Besides, although tigers didn’t usually come out of hiding during the day, they were likely to do so if the day was dark and cloudy. This was something I had learnt from Feluda only this morning.

Soon, we came to the nullah. It had probably been quite dry even a day ago, but was now gurgling merrily. A lot of animals had left their footprints on the wet sand by its sides. Madhavlal pointed out the marks left by deer, wild boars and a hyena; but there was no sign of a tiger. We crossed it and continued to walk. I could hear a hoopoe in the distance, a peacock cried out once, and there were crickets in the bushes we passed. The faint rustling noise in the grass told me lizards and other smaller reptiles were quickly moving out of our way to avoid being crushed to death under our feet.

The route we took today was a different one, but it did not take us very long to reach the spot we had visited yesterday. There was the bush with the purple flowers. That was where we had found the sword. Madhavlal moved silently, and each one of us tried to do the same. Actually, it was not all that difficult to muffle the noise our feet made, for the ground was wet and there were no dry leaves.

Piles of broken bricks came into view. We had reached the temple of the Chopped Goddess. No one spoke. Madhavlal stopped in front of the temple. We joined him noiselessly. Since my attention had been wholly taken up the day before by the peepul tree and the two palms, I hadn’t noticed the other big trees in the area. A cool breeze now wafted through their leaves, and the nullah still rippled faintly in the background.

Feluda walked over to the palms. Mahitosh Babu followed him swiftly. The hole in the ground was even more full of water today. After a while, Feluda broke the silence.

‘This is where Adityanarayan had hidden his treasure,’ he said. ‘But. . . where did it go?’ Mahitosh Babu asked hoarsely.

‘It has not gone far, unless someone removed it yesterday after we left.’

Mahitosh Babu’s eyes began gleaming with hope.

‘Do you really think so? Are you sure?’ he asked eagerly. Feluda turned to face him squarely. ‘Mahitosh Babu, can you tell us what that treasure consists of? What exactly was buried under the ground?’

Mahitosh Babu’s face had gone red with excitement. A couple of veins stood out on his forehead.

‘I don’t know, Mr Mitter, but I can guess,’ he spoke with an effort. ‘One of my ancestors—called Yashwant Sinha-Roy—was the chief of the army in the princely state of Coochbehar. The money he had been paid by the Maharaja was kept in our house. There were more than a thousand silver coins, four hundred years old. When Adityanarayan decided to hide these, he had crossed sixty and was beginning to lose his mind. He had started to indulge in childish pranks. No one could find those coins after he died. Now, after all these years, his coded message has told us where they were hidden. I can’t afford to lose them again, Mr Mitter. I have got to find them!’

Feluda turned from Mahitosh Babu and began walking towards the temple. He stopped for a second as he passed me, and said, ‘Here, Topshe, hold my rifle for me. I don’t think I’ll need it inside that hall. A revolver should be good enough.’

My hands started to tremble, but I pulled myself together and took the rifle from him. Then I realized just how heavy it was.

Feluda walked on and entered the dark hall once more. I saw him put his hand into his pocket before he disappeared through its broken door.

In less than five seconds, we heard him fire twice. No one said anything, but I could feel a shiver go down my spine. Then Feluda’s voice spoke from inside the temple: ‘Mahitosh Babu, could you please send your bearer here?’

Parvat Singh handed the rifle to his master, and went into the temple. A couple of seconds later, he emerged with a dirty, muddy brass pitcher in his hands. Feluda followed him. Mahitosh Babu rushed forward towards his bearer.

‘Who knew a cobra would be attracted to silver coins? Feluda said with a smile. ‘I had heard its hiss yesterday. Today, I found it wound around that pitcher, as if it was giving it a tight embrace!

Mahitosh Babu had thrown aside his rifle. I saw him pounce upon the pitcher and put his hand into it. Just as he brought it out, clutching a handful of coins, an animal cried out nearby. It was a
barking deer. Monkeys joined it immediately, jumping from branch to branch, making an incessant noise.

A lot of things happened at once. Even now, as I write about it, I feel shaken and confused. To start with, a remarkable change came over Mahitosh Babu. Only a moment ago, he had seemed overjoyed at the sight of his treasure. Now, he dropped the coins, jumped up and took three steps backwards, as if he had received an electric shock. Each one of us turned into a statue. Feluda was the first to speak, but his voice was low. ‘Topshe,’ he whispered, ‘climb that tree. You, too, Lalmohan Babu. Go on, be quick!’

We were standing near the famous peepul tree. I returned the rifle to Feluda, placed a foot in the big hollow and grasped a branch. In about ten seconds, I was a good ten feet from the ground. Lalmohan Babu followed suit, with surprising agility, having passed me the sword. Soon, he was sitting on a branch higher than mine. He told us afterwards that he had had a lot of practice in climbing trees as a child, but I had no idea he could do it even at the age of forty.

I saw what followed from the treetop. Lalmohan Babu saw some of it, then fainted quietly. But his arms and legs were so securely wrapped around a big branch that he did not fall down.

It was obvious to everyone that there was a tiger in the vicinity. That was why Feluda had told us to get out of the way. Mahitosh Babu’s reaction was the most surprising. I could never have imagined he would behave like that. He turned to Feluda and spoke fiercely through clenched teeth, ‘Mr Mitter, if you value your own life, go away at once!’

‘Go away? Where could I go, Mahitosh Babu?’

Both men were holding their rifles. Mahitosh Babu raised his, pointing it at Feluda.

‘Go!’ he said again. ‘The jeep is still waiting, over there. Get out of here. I command you—’ He couldn’t finish. His voice was drowned by the roar of a tiger. It sounded as if not one, but fifty wild animals had cried out together.

Then I saw a flash of yellow—like a moving flame—through the leaves of the trees that stood behind the temple. It moved swiftly through the tall grass and all the undergrowth, and slowly took the shape of a huge, striped animal: a Royal Bengal tiger. It began making its way to the open area where the others were still standing.

Mahitosh Babu lowered his gun. His hands were trembling uncontrollably.

Feluda raised his own rifle. There were three other men—Shashanka Sanyal, Madhavlal and Parvat Singh. Parvat Singh gave a sudden leap and vanished from sight. I could not see what the other two were doing, for my eyes kept moving between Feluda and the tiger. It was now standing beside the temple. It bared its fangs and growled. Never before had it had such a wide choice of prey.

Then I saw it stop, and crouch. It would spring up and attack perhaps in less than a second. I had read about this. Sometimes a tiger could—

Bang! Bang!

Shots rang out almost simultaneously from two different rifles. My ears started ringing. Just for a moment, even my vision seemed to blur. But I did not miss seeing what happened to the tiger. It shot up in the air, then seemed to strike against an invisible barrier, which made it take a somersault and drop to the ground. It crashed where the brass pitcher stood, its tail lashing at it, making it turn over noisily, spilling its contents. Then the tiger lay still, surrounded by four-hundred-year-old silver coins.

Feluda slowly put his rifle down.

‘It’s dead, sir,’ Madhavlal announced, sounding pleased.

‘Who killed it? Which of the two bullets did the trick, I wonder?’ Feluda asked.

Mahitosh Babu was in no condition to reply. He was sitting on the ground, clutching his head between his hands. His rifle had been snatched away by his friend, Shashanka Sanyal. It was he who had fired the second shot.

Mr Sanyal walked over to the dead tiger.

‘Come and have a look, Mr Mitter,’ he invited. ‘One of the bullets caught him under the jaw and went through the head; the other hit him near an ear. Either of those could have killed him.