Free A Killer in Kailash: Adventures of Feluda by Satyajit Ray Page B

trying not to laugh.
    ‘Could it have been stolen last night?’ Lalmohan Babu suggested. ‘We saw you looking for something. I mean, we saw your torch …’
    ‘No. A small bat had somehow got into my room last night. I switched the main lights off and used my torch to get rid of it. Nothing was stolen yesterday. It happened this morning. I believe the culprit is that young boy of the chowkidar's.’
    I had to shout once more and repeat the whole thing to Lalmohan Babu.
    ‘I am very sorry to hear this,’ Lalmohan Babu said gravely. ‘We must keep an eye on the boy.’
    There didn't seem to be anything else to say. We apologized for disturbing him and came away.
    The chowkidar had served us breakfast in the dining hall. We began eating. I had no idea what American fried eggs tasted like, but what I had been given here was quite tasty. I kept wondering who might have broken into our room, but decided in the end that it must have been the chowkidar's son. I had seen him walking in the backyard and throwing curious glances in the direction of our rooms.
    Feluda had told us to go back to the bungalow, but hadn’t said that we had to stay in. So after breakfast, we locked our room, and went out to the street.
    The guest house was not clearly visible from the main gate of our bungalow, the view being partially obstructed by a large tree. The sudden noise of a car starting made us go forward quickly. Now the guest house was fully visible. The taxi that had brought Mr Raxit and Lewison from Aurangabad was now ready to leave. The luggage-rack on its roof was loaded. Mr Sam Lewison, the American millionaire, was giving a tip to one of the bearers.
    But who was that?
    Another man had come out of the guest house and was speaking to Lewison. Lewison nodded twice, which clearly meant that he had agreed to do something for the other man. The latter went back to the guest house and reappeared with a suitcase. The driver opened the boot of the car, and placed the suitcase in it. My heart began beating faster. Lalmohan Babu clutched my sleeve. There could be no doubt about the implication of what we had just seen. Mr Jayant Mallik was not going to wait for his own car to be repaired. He was trying to escape with Sam Lewison.
    The driver took his seat.
    ‘The cycle!’ I cried. ‘The chowkidar's cycle!’
    The car started. I ran back to the bungalow and managed to drag the cycle out. Luckily, no one saw me.
    ‘Come on!’ I said to Lalmohan Babu. He stood there looking as though he had never ridden on the crossbar of a cycle before. But there was no time to argue, our culprit was running away. He jumped up a second later, and I began pedalling as fast as I could. Feluda had taught me to cycle when I was seven. Now I could put it to good use.
    If we had walked, it would have taken us twenty minutes to get back to the temple. I covered that distance in five. There was Feluda, and Ghote, and Kulkarni!
    ‘Feluda!’ I panted. ‘Mr Mallik went off … in that American’s car … five minutes ago!’
    Just that one remark from me set so many things in motion that the whole thing now seems almost like a blur. Mr Ghote jumped into his jeep, with Feluda beside him, and Lalmohan Babu and myself at the back. I had no idea that even a jeep could travel at 60 kmph. Very soon, we saw Lewison’s taxi, overtook it and made it stop. Lewison got out, looking furious and giving vent to his anger by uttering a range of specially chosen American swear words. These had no effect on Mr Ghote. He ignored Lewison completely and approached Mallik, who turned visibly pale. Mr Ghote then opened his suitcase, quelling an abortive attempt by Mallik to stop him, and took out an object wrapped heavily in a large Turkish towel. With one swift movement, he removed the towel and revealed the yakshi's head. Sam Lewison shut up immediately, gaped in horror and stammered, ‘B-b-but … b-but I … I … !’ Lalmohan Babu heaved a sigh of relief and proclaimed,