The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II Read Online Free Page A

an important part of our art and cultural heritage.
    Shyamlal Barik nodded. ‘Yes, those old manuscripts are his only passion in life. Many people come—even from abroad—to take a look at his collection.’
    ‘Doesn’t he have any children?’
    ‘A son and daughter-in-law used to visit him occasionally, but I haven’t seen them for ages. D.G. Sen himself came to live here only three years ago. He’s a widower. He lives on the top floor. The ground floor has been rented out to an astrologer; and the rooms on the first floor are let out to tourists during the tourist season. At the moment, a retired judge and his wife are staying there.’
    ‘I see.’ Feluda stubbed out his cigarette.
    ‘Would you like to meet him?’ Mr Barik asked. ‘He’s a peculiar man, doesn’t normally agree to meet outsiders. But if you have an interest in manuscripts . . .’
    ‘I do,’ Feluda interrupted him, ‘but if I simply say I have an interest, that won’t do, will it? I must do my homework before I meetsomeone who has a profound knowledge of old manuscripts.’
    ‘That’s no problem,’ Mr Barik assured us. ‘I’ll take you to Satish Kanungo’s house. It’s just five minutes from here. He’s a retired professor. There’s probably no subject on earth he doesn’t know about. You can have a chat with him, and do your homework.’

Three
    The next morning, by the time I got up, Feluda had already called Professor Kanungo and gone over to his house. This surprised me, since I had no idea he was in such a hurry to meet the professor. My plans were different. I had wanted to spend the morning bathing in the sea. Feluda might have accompanied me. I asked Lalmohan Babu, but he said, ‘Look Tapesh, at your age, I used to swim a lot. My butterfly-stroke often earned me applause from onlookers. But a small Calcutta swimming pool is not the same thing as the Bay of Bengal, surely you can see that? Besides, the sea in Puri is extremely treacherous. Had it been the sea in Bombay, I wouldn’t have hesitated.’
    He was right. It had rained the night before and was still cloudy and kind of oppressive. So we decided to wait until Feluda got back. ‘Let’s go and have a walk on the beach,’ Lalmohan Babu suggested. I agreed, and we left soon after a breakfast of toast and eggs. Lalmohan Babu seemed to be in a very good mood, possibly as a result of what Laxman Bhattacharya had told him.
    The beach was totally empty. A few boats were out in the sea, but there was no sign of the Nulia children. A couple of crows were flying about, going near the water as the waves receded, then flitting quickly away as they came surging back again.
    We walked on. A few minutes later, Lalmohan Babu stopped suddenly. ‘I have heard of people sunbathing on a beach,’ he observed, ‘but do they also cloud-bathe?’ I could see what he meant. A man was lying on his back about fifty yards away, at a spot where the beach ended and a slope began. There was a bush on one side. Had the man chosen to lie down a little to the left, he would have been hidden from sight.
    ‘Seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?’ Lalmohan Babu whispered. I said nothing, but went forward to have closer look. Why was the man lying here? It certainly did not seem right.
    Even from ten feet away, he looked as though he was sleeping. But as we went a few steps further, we realized with a shock that he was dead. His eyes were open, and around his head was a pool of blood; or, at least, it had been a pool hours ago, now it was a dark patch on the sand.
    The man had thick curly hair, thick eyebrows, a heavy moustache and a clear complexion. He was wearing a grey cotton jacket, white trousers and a blue striped shirt. There were shoes on his feet, but no socks. On one of his little fingers he wore a ring with a blue stone. His nails were long and dirty. The front pocket of his jacket was crammed with papers. I was sorely tempted to take them out and go through them quickly, just to find out