Free The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume I by Satyajit Ray Page A

people.
    ‘Advertisement for a Hindi film,’ Feluda said.
    He was right. I could see, as the other tonga went past us, that a brightly painted poster was pasted on its side. The film was called
Daku Mansoor.
A couple of handbills landed in our tonga, and with them, came a white sheet of paper, screwed into a ball. It hit against Feluda’s chest and fell on the floor.
    ‘I saw the man who threw it, Feluda,’ I yelled, ‘he was dressed like an Afghan. But—’
    Before I could finish speaking, Feluda had picked up the piece of paper, clambered down and started to run in the man’s direction. I simply watched with amazement the speed at which he ran, despite jostling crowds, without colliding into anyone.
    The driver, by this time, had stopped the tonga. I could do nothing but wait. The music from the loudspeaker had grown faint, although a few urchins were still busy collecting the handbills. Feluda returned a few moments later, panting. He jumped into the tonga, gestured to the driver to start, and said, ‘He managed to escape only because I wasn’t familiar with the little alleyways of this place!’
    ‘Did you actually see him?’ I asked.
    ‘How could I have missed him when even you saw him?’
    I said nothing more. If Feluda hadn’t already seen the man, I would have said that although he was dressed like one, the man was remarkably short for an Afghan.
    Feluda now took out the screwed-up piece of paper, smoothed it out and read its contents. Then he folded it three times and put it in his wallet. I did not dare ask what was written on it.
    We returned home to discover that Dhiru Kaka had come back, and with him was Srivastava. The latter did not appear to be too upset by the loss of his ring. ‘That ring had a jinx on it, I tell you,’ he said, ‘it caused trouble everywhere it went. You were lucky it was stolen in your absence. Suppose they had broken into your house at night? Suppose they had turned violent?’
    Dhiru Kaka smiled at this.
    ‘That would have made more sense,’ he said. ‘This man simply made a fool of me. It is this that I find so hard to accept!’
    ‘Stop worrying, Dhiru Babu. That ring would have gone, anyway, even if I didn’t part with it. And please don’t go to the police. That would make matters worse. Whoever it was might try to attack you again!’
    All this while, Feluda was leafing through a copy of
Life
magazine. He now laid it aside, leant back in the sofa and asked, ‘Does Mahabir know about this ring?’
    ‘You mean Pyarelal’s son?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, I don’t know for sure. He used to be in Doon School. Then he joined the military academy, but left it eventually and went off to Bombay. Now he’s become an actor, I believe.’
    ‘Did Pyarelal approve of his son acting in films?’
    ‘He never mentioned anything to me. But I know he was very fond of his son.’
    ‘Was Mahabir in Lucknow when Pyarelal died?’
    ‘No, he was in Bombay. He arrived as soon as he heard the news.’ Dhiru Kaka said, ‘Good heavens, Felu, you are asking questions like the police!’
    ‘He’s an amateur detective, you see,’ Baba explained. ‘He has a positive . . . er. . . knack in these matters.’
    Dr Srivastava looked at Feluda with undisguised surprise. ‘That’s good,’ he said, ‘very good indeed.’
    Only Dhiru Kaka remarked, a little dryly, I thought: ‘And the thief took something from the very house where we have a detectivestaying! That is regrettable, isn’t it?’
    Feluda made no comment. Instead, he turned to Srivastava and asked another question.
    ‘Is Mahabir earning enough from films?’
    ‘I don’t know about that. He went to Bombay only two years ago.’
    ‘He does have plenty of money, doesn’t he? I mean . . .’
    ‘Yes. Pyarelal left him all his property. Acting in films is more or less just a pastime for him.’
    ‘Hm,’ said Feluda and picked up the
Life
again.
    Srivastava suddenly looked at his watch and exclaimed, ‘My God, is that