The Bandits of Bombay: Adventures of Feluda Read Free Page B

time.
    ‘Exactly. So what does that tell you?’
    ‘The man was in a hurry.’
    ‘Good. Eyes and your brain—you need to keep these open. If you do, you'll find that it's possible to deduce certain facts really quite easily. So, you see, if I was trying to follow that taxi, it was for a reason.’
    ‘Yes, but what exactly is on your mind?’ Lalmohan babu asked, sitting up straight and placing his elbows on the table.
    ‘Nothing. Nothing specific. I only have a doubt … a little doubt about something.’
    After that, we began talking of other things and did not refer to the matter again.
    Lalmohan babu joined us in our room at around five o'clock, after a short rest. We ordered tea, and were in the process of drinking it, when there was a knock on our door. The man who entered was most definitely no more than thirty-five but his thick, wavy hair had already turned amazingly grey.
    ‘Hello, Laluda! How are you? Everything all right?’ he asked.
    Laluda! It had simply not occurred to me that anyone could possibly call Lalmohan babu ‘Laluda’. So this was Pulak Ghoshal. Feluda had warned Lalmohan babu not to reveal his profession, so he was introduced merely as his friend. Mr Ghoshal looked at Feluda and suddenly shook his head most regretfully. ‘You are Laluda's friend, one of our very own—and look, here we are, struggling to find a suitable hero. Mr Mitter, can you speak Hindi?’
    Feluda grinned. ‘No, sir. I cannot speak Hindi, and what is worse, I cannot act. But why are you still looking for a hero? I thought you'd found Arjun Mehrotra.’
    ‘Yes, but Arjun has changed a lot, he's not the same person any more. Now he's learnt to make endless demands. I don't call these actors heroes, you know. They are all villains under the surface; never mind if they play heroes on the screen. The producers have spoilt them rotten. Anyway, I am here to invite you to the first day's shooting the day after tomorrow. The spot is about seventy miles from here. Your driver knows the place. Try to leave as early as you can. Mr Gore—my producer, I mean—isn't here. He's out visiting Delhi, Calcutta and Madras to sell this film. But he told me to make sure you were well looked after.’
    ‘Where is this spot?’
    ‘Between Khandala and Lonavala. We'll shoot inside a train. If there aren't enough passengers, I'll ask you to sit in the compartment.’
    ‘Oh, by the way,’ said Lalmohan babu, ‘We've seen Shivaji Castle.’
    His words brought a frown on Mr Ghoshal's face immediately. ‘Really? When?’
    ‘On our way from the airport. Say, around two.’
    ‘I see. That means it happened after two o'clock.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘A murder.’
    ‘Wha-at!’ All of us exclaimed, almost simultaneously. There is something so sinister about the word ‘murder’ that it made me shiver involuntarily.
    ‘I learnt about it only half an hour ago,’ Mr Ghoshal told us, ‘I am a regular visitor to that building. That's where Mr Gore lives, on the twelfth floor. Now do you see why we had to change that name? But Mr Gore himself is a very nice man. Did you go inside?’
    ‘I did,’ Feluda said, ‘only up to the lift. I didn't get into it.’
    ‘Good heavens! The murder took place inside that lift. The body has not yet been identified. I believe he looks like a hooligan. A man called Tyagarajan lives on the third floor. Around three o'clock he pressed the button for the lift. It came down from upstairs. So Tyagarajan then tried getting into it, and saw what had happened. The fellow was stabbed in the stomach. Horrible affair!’
    ‘Wasn't anyone else seen getting in and out of the lift around that time?’ Feluda asked.
    ‘No, there was no one out in the passage near the lift. But two drivers were waiting outside, they saw five or six people go into the building. One of them was wearing a red shirt, another one had a shoulder bag and was wearing a brown …’
    Feluda raised a hand and stopped him. ‘That second man was