The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II (81 page)

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 tell 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 nothing.

‘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.’

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.’

‘And the others?’

‘I searched Naskar’s house this morning. I didn’t find the ruby, of course, but that doesn’t mean a thing. He could easily have hidden it somewhere else. But I have started to think Jagannath Chatterjee is our best bet.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘He claims to be an authority on Birbhum. But he’s lived here only for the last three years. My guess is that he’s no expert at all. All his information probably comes from a guide book for tourists. Besides, I discovered he’d been arrested for fraud in Burdwan where he used to live before. He’s a criminal, Mr Mitter. I’m convinced he’s our man. Did you know he was charging a fee for his services? Yes, sir. Mr Robertson paid him a hundred rupees each time he met him!’

‘No, I did not know that. Have you searched his house?’

‘No, but I will this afternoon, though I don’t think a search will yield anything. What I have to do is speak to him sternly and put the fear of God in him. Anyway, aren’t you going to do anything?’

‘No. Any action you as a police officer may take will have a lot more effect, I think. But I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, naturally, and will let you know if I notice anything suspicious. Oh, by the way, what about the fifth suspect I mentioned?’

‘You mean Peter Robertson?’

‘Yes. I have a feeling Peter would now accept the loss of an old friendship, if need be. What is important to him is that his ancestor’s wish be fulfilled. He’s changed his mind about selling that ruby. I know he has.’

‘Yes, you said so last night, didn’t you? I remembered your words, Mr Mitter, and I searched Peter Robertson’s room only a few minutes before I came here. Need I tell you there was no sign of the ruby?’

Feluda made no reply. Inspector Chaubey rose. ‘I’ll come and see you again in the evening,’ he said and left.

‘A most complicated case,’ Feluda sighed. ‘Five suspects . . . all
strewn in five different places. What can I do from here? The police have certainly got the upper hand this time.’

‘Come on, Felu Babu, you’re not even trying. Tell us who you really suspect,’ said Lalmohan Babu.

‘Out of these five?’

‘Yes.’

‘I had ruled out Kishorilal for the simple reason that he didn’t strike me as the type who’d resort to violence to get what he wanted. He hasn’t got the courage it would take to knock someone out, steal something from his bag and run away, especially when there were so many people about.’

‘What about Chandu Mallik?’

‘Chandu might have hit Maxwell—he’s quite capable of having done that—but how could he have known that the ruby was in his bag? No, Chandu did not do it. Mr Naskar? It’s difficult to imagine him getting into a messy business like this. There was absolutely no need for him to go to such lengths; not with the kind of money he’s got.’

‘There’s something I don’t understand at all,’ Lalmohan Babu confessed.

‘What is it?’

‘Do people always speak the truth when they’re hypnotized?’

‘What is the truth you’re supposed to have spoken?’

‘Why, didn’t I tell you all how old Peter and Tom were, and that they came from Lancashire? They never mentioned it to me, so how did I know? Mind you, I don’t remember having said it, but Tapesh says I did.’

‘Both those facts had been mentioned in that article in the
Statesman.
Even if you didn’t read the whole thing, Lalmohan Babu, your memory had somehow absorbed those details, and it came out when you were asked a specific question. Everything else you said has already been proved to be quite incorrect. So please don’t go around thinking you had acquired any extraordinary powers at any time.’

‘All right, Felu Babu, point taken. But do you agree with Inspector Chaubey? Was it Jagannath Chatterjee?’

‘Who else could it be? It’s such a pity the whole thing had to end so tamely, but . . .’ Feluda couldn’t finish his sentence. Someone knocked on the door.

It turned out to be Tom Maxwell, looking rather grim. Feluda
offered him a chair, but he shook his head.

‘I haven’t come to sit down and chat with you,’ he said.

‘I see.’

‘I am here to search your room and your friend’s.’

‘But we were all searched yesterday. Wasn’t that good enough for you?’

‘No. You were searched by an Indian policeman. I have no faith in him.’

‘Do you have a warrant? Surely you’re aware that you cannot search anyone’s room without a proper warrant?’

‘You mean you won’t let me—?’

‘No, Mr Maxwell. Neither my friend nor I will let you go through our things. Inspector Chaubey searched each one of us yesterday, in your presence. You’ll have to be satisfied with that.’

Tom made an about-turn without another word and strode out of the room.

‘Just imagine!’ Lalmohan Babu exclaimed. ‘I have been on so many cases with you, Felu Babu, but I’ve never ended up as one of the suspects!’

‘Put it down to experience, Mr Ganguli. It’s good to have all sorts of experiences, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s true. But are you going to spend all your time indoors?’

‘I’ll go out if I feel like it. Right now all I want to do is think, and I can do that very well without stirring out of my room. But that’s no reason why you and Topshe shouldn’t go out. There’s a lot still left to be seen.’

‘Very well. Let’s go and get hold of Shatadal. He may be able to make some useful suggestions. Tell you what, Felu Babu. I’ll leave that book with you, the one that Shatadal lent me. Read it. You’ll get a lot of information about Tom Maxwell’s ancestor. And if you wish to learn about how indigo was grown and what the British did with it, this book will tell you that, too.’

‘Thank you, Lalmohan Babu. I should love to read your book.’ We left soon after this, leaving Feluda to go through what Rev Pritchard had written. Shatadal Sen happened to be free, and offered to take us to see a village by the river Kopai, which Tagore used to watch and admire. I had seen villages and rivers before, but there was something about Kopai and the village called Goalpara that touched my heart and lifted my spirits instantly.

Lalmohan Babu went a step further and began reciting poetry. ‘My favourite poet, Baikuntha Mallik, visited Santikiniketan, you see, and wrote quite a few poems on its natural beauty,’ he told me. ‘Listen to this:

O Kopai, thin you might be,
but you’re fast.
May your beauty forever last,
you are a pleasure to see.

Rice fields lie by your sides,
nature’s bounty in them hides,
etching pictures in my memory.
Kopai, you are a pleasure to see.’