Free The Bandits of Bombay: Adventures of Feluda by Satyajit Ray

behind me, so I couldn't see the look on his face. But, in spite of the racket the train was making, I could hear him breathing heavily, wheezing like an asthma patient.
    The train was speeding on its way. It meant that the shooting was going ahead as planned. Did Mr Gore have any idea just how badly he had messed things up?
    Sanyal sat down, grabbed the bag and pressed its catch. It did not open. The bag was locked.
    ‘Where's the key? Where is it?’ Sanyal's entire face was distorted with impatient rage. ‘Where the hell did you put it?’
    ‘In my pocket,’ Feluda replied coolly.
    ‘Which pocket?’
    ‘The right one.’
    That was where Feluda kept his revolver. I knew it.
    Sanyal rose to his feet, still looking livid. After a few uncertain moments, he suddenly turned to me. ‘Come here!’ he roared.
    Feluda looked at me. I could tell he wanted me to do as I was told.
    As I began moving towards Feluda, a different noise reached my ears. It wasn't just the noise of the train. I could hear galloping horses. Unbeknown to me, the train had reached the hills, which were now stretched on the left. By the time I could slip my hand into Feluda's pocket, the gang of bandits was moving swiftly down a hill, throwing up clouds of dust.
    My fingers first found the revolver, then brushed against the key.
    ‘Give it to him,’ Feluda told me.
    I passed the key to Sanyal. Feluda's hands were still raised.
    Sanyal unlocked the bag. Life Divine was resting on top of everything else. Sanyal took it out.
    There was the sound of hooves quite close to the window. Not one, but several horses had sped down the hill and were now galloping beside the track, keeping pace with the train.
    Sanyal leafed through the pages quickly until he got to the point where many of the pages were stuck together. Then he did something most peculiar. Instead of turning the pages, he began scratching and clawing at them. At once, one of the pages tore, revealing a square ‘hollow’. A certain section had been cut out from the centre of several pages to create that hollow.
    Sanyal peered into it—and the expression on his face changed at once. It was really worth watching. God knows what he was expecting to find, but what the hollow contained were about eight cigarette stubs, a dozen used matches and a substantial quantity of ash.
    ‘I hope you don't mind,’ said Feluda, ‘but I couldn't resist using that as an ash-tray.’
    Now Sanyal shouted so loudly that I was sure the whole train could hear him.
    ‘You think you can get away with this? Where's the real stuff?’
    ‘What stuff?’
    ‘You scoundrel! Don't you know what I'm talking about?’
    ‘Of course. But I want to hear you spell it out.’
    ‘ Where is it?’ Sanyal roared again.
    ‘In my pocket.’
    ‘Which pocket?’
    ‘The left one.’
    The bandits were now just outside the window. The hill was much closer. A lot of dust was coming in through the window.
    ‘You there!’
    I knew I would be ordered once more.
    ‘Don't just stand there—get it from his pocket!’
    I had to slip my hand into Feluda's left pocket this time. The object that I found was something the like of which I had never held in my hand before. It was a necklace strung with pearls and studded with diamonds. Such an amazing piece of jewellery was fit to be handled only by kings and emperors, I thought.
    ‘Give it to me!’ Sanyal's eyes were glinting once more, not with rage, but with greed and glee.
    I stretched my hand towards him. Feluda kept his hands raised. Lalmohan babu was groaning. The bandits were …
    CRASH!
    Something heavy had made an impact against the carriage, making it shake a little. In the next instant, Nimmo was rolling on the floor. A pair of legs had slipped in through the window and kicked him hard. The gun in his hand went off, hit a light fixed to the ceiling and shattered it. In a flash, Feluda lowered his hands and took out his own revolver.
    Then the door on the left opened again, and a man