The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II (65 page)

Mr Mallik was undoubtedly a most hospitable man. The number of dishes on the table bore evidence of that. I had no idea there could be so many different types of fish curry. Feluda seldom ate a lot during meals, but Lalmohan Babu—a gourmet—enjoyed his meal with obvious relish. But then, he had an additional reason to feel pleased. Mr Mallik kept asking him about his writing, which gave him the chance to brag about himself.

‘Allow me now to show you a part of my collection,’ said Mr Mallik after lunch. We went back to the first floor, turning left instead of right this time. Mr Mallik’s bedroom, study and museum were all on this side of the building.

We were shown a wide range of curios. Each of them, we were told, had once belonged to a famous character in history. The diamond-studded naagra was the first object we saw, followed by Tipu Sultan’s snuff box, Robert Clive’s pocket watch, Siraj-ud-daula’s handkerchief and Rani Rashmoni’s paan box. All of us made the right admiring noises, but I couldn’t help feeling somewhat sceptical. How could anyone be sure that each item had really belonged to all those well-known people? After all, it wasn’t as
if their names were written on anything. As we were returning to our rooms after thanking our host, Prof Haldar muttered under his breath: ‘What did you make of it, Mr Mitter?’

‘Not very convincing, was it?’

‘Convincing? Not a single thing was genuine. That naagra had a distinct smell of new leather!’

We had about three hours left before the reception. A bearer came to call us at a quarter to six. We were all dressed by this time. Feluda had donned a traditional dhoti and kurta (in which he looked quite handsome, I had to admit); and Lalmohan Babu was wearing a beautifully embroidered Kashmiri shawl, which he said had once belonged to his grandfather.

It was dark by the time we reached the place where the function was going to be held, but we found an abundance of lights, ranging from powerful spotlights to tiny coloured bulbs. The actual presentation of the citations came at the very end. It was preceded by songs and dances and reading of poetry. Every performer was clearly doing his utmost to impress Feluda. Feluda responded by clapping with great enthusiasm as they left the stage.

The citations were read out eventually before being handed to the two recipients. Whoever had written them out had a beautiful handwriting. A few reporters surrounded Feluda afterwards. In answer to their questions, Feluda said he was not working on a case at the moment, and was enjoying a break.

Prof Haldar went back home with Mr Mallik after the function ended, but we stayed on as Feluda’s friend, Someshwar Saha, had invited us to dinner. He arrived as the crowd began to disperse.

‘Can you recognize me?’ he asked with a smile.

‘Easily,’ Feluda replied. ‘You’ve got a moustache now, but otherwise you haven’t changed.’

‘And I might say the same about you, except that your eyes seem sharper and you look a lot smarter. How many cases have you handled so far?’

‘No idea,’ Feluda laughed. ‘I’ve lost track.’

‘Look, here’s someone very keen to meet you,’ Mr Saha gently pushed forward a gentleman who was standing behind him. ‘Meet Jaichand Boral. He lives here, and it was he who designed that citation.’

‘Really? Very pleased to meet you, sir. We were all admiring your handwriting.’

Mr Boral smiled shyly. ‘Thank you, Mr Mitter, thank you very much. I never thought I’d hear praise from you. I am one of your ardent fans.’

‘Mr Boral is going to join us for dinner,’ said Mr Saha. ‘Come on, let’s go. My house is only ten minutes from here.’

Mr Saha’s house turned out to be small and compact. His wife and ten-year-old son greeted us. ‘Dinner will soon be ready,’ Mrs Saha said, offering us drinks.

When we were all seated, Mr Saha pointed at Mr Boral. ‘He has something to tell you. I think you’re going to find it interesting.’

‘Oh? What is it, Mr Boral?’

Mr Boral smiled again. ‘Nothing much, Mr Mitter. It’s just something related to my family.’

‘Oh, do tell us!’ Lalmohan Babu leant forward in his chair. Even the hint of a story always made him excited.

Mr Boral put his glass down on a table.

‘I work here now as a simple schoolteacher,’ he began, ‘but we were originally a family of jewellers. In fact, even now we own a small shop in Calcutta. An uncle of mine looks after it. My great great grandfather had started this business. He used to sail round the coast to buy and sell precious gems. He found something near Madras, which has survived till this day. I would like to show it to you.’

‘Have you got it with you now?’

‘Yes.’

Mr Boral took out a brown handkerchief from his pocket. It was knotted around a small object. As he untied it, a tiny red velvet box slipped out. He opened it and held it forward. In it lay a pearl.

‘Good heavens, it’s a pink pearl!’ Feluda exclaimed.

‘Yes, sir. It is pink, but I don’t know if that makes it special in any way.’

‘What! You come from a family of jewellers and you don’t know?’ Feluda sounded unusually agitated. ‘Out of all the pearls that are available in India, a pink pearl is the most rare and, therefore, the most expensive.’

‘Hey, I didn’t even know a pearl could be anything but white!’ Lalmohan Babu remarked.

‘Pearls come in many hues—white, red, black, yellow, blue, pink. Look, Mr Boral, you must not go about carrying such a precious object in your pocket. If you have a safe in your house, keep it there.’

‘Yes, Mr Mitter, it always stays in a chest. I hardly ever take it out. But tonight, I wanted you to see it, so . . .’

‘Have you shown it to anyone else?’

‘Just one other man. He’s a writer. He came to my house last week, saying he was writing a book on the merchants of Bengal in the nineteenth century. I showed it to him, but no one else.’

‘Very well. But is it generally known that you have got it?’

‘Er . . . yes. You see, this writer went and told a reporter. A report came out the next day.’

‘In the local papers?’

‘Yes, three different papers picked up the story. It was published only yesterday.’

‘Did it actually say the pearl was pink?’

‘Yes, unfortunately.’

‘That is bad news, Mr Boral,’ Feluda sounded serious. ‘Let me emphasize one thing. Please do not show it to anyone else. You have no idea how valuable it is. If you sold it, it would fetch enough money not just for yourself, but also for the next two generations in your family to live in comfort.’

‘Really? Thank you very much for telling me this, Mr Mitter. I am much obliged.’

Before he put it away, each of us held the pearl in our hand and had a good look at it. Feluda said it wasn’t just its colour that was remarkable, but also its shape, which must add to its value.

‘The only unfortunate thing is this business of the press report,’ Feluda clicked his tongue in annoyance. ‘I hope it won’t cause you any problems.’

‘If it does, should I contact you?’

‘Yes, you must. Someshwar here has my address and telephone number. Don’t hesitate to give me a call. If necessary, you can bring that pearl to Calcutta.’

We left for Calcutta the next morning. Prof Haldar accompanied us, but Feluda did not mention the pink pearl even once in his presence. All he said on reaching home was, ‘I wish the press hadn’t got hold of the story!’

Two days passed eventlessly. On the third day, we were both in
our living room, I reading and Feluda clipping his nails, when the telephone rang. Feluda answered it, spoke briefly, then put it down.

‘That was Boral,’ he informed me.

‘Is he here in Calcutta?’

‘Yes. He said he had to see me urgently. He is coming at half past five. He sounded both excited and disturbed. Topshe, go and call Lalmohan Babu.’

It was necessary to tell Lalmohan Babu, for he’d have been quite disappointed if we had left him out. ‘If I’m not involved right from the start, Felu Babu, I cannot understand how things develop, and then I cannot think well enough to be able to help you!’ he had once complained.

Lalmohan Babu arrived at five and, exactly half an hour later, Jaichand Boral turned up, just as Srinath came in with the tea.

Mr Boral looked tired and haggard. In the last couple of days, two national dailies had published the story of the pink pearl, which had clearly added to his worries. He quickly finished the glass of water Srinath offered him, then shook his head ruefully.

‘Who knew a small report in the press would create such havoc? I have to tell you three things. First, a cousin of mine—Motilal Boral—has written to me, saying that if the pearl is sold, he wants a share of the proceeds since it is a family heirloom, not just my personal property. Motilal lives in Benaras. He runs a cinema. His letter openly implies that I have tried to deceive him by never telling him about the pearl.’

‘I see. What’s the second thing?’

‘I received one more letter, from a man called Suraj Singh in Dharampur, which is in Uttar Pradesh. It was once a princely state. Suraj Singh appears to be a most powerful man in Dharampur for he wrote from Dharampur Palace. He says he has a huge collection of pearls, but he doesn’t have a single pink one. So he’d like to buy the one I’ve got, and wants me to name a price.’

‘OK, what about the third thing?’

‘That’s really the reason why I am here. It’s really worrying me, Mr Mitter. Someone actually turned up at my house the day before yesterday. I think he was a Marwari. Judging by his clothes and the number of rings he was wearing—he even had a diamond stud in one ear—he was a very wealthy man. He said he collected antiques and art objects. I guess he sells them abroad at hefty prices.’

‘And he wanted your pearl?’

‘Oh yes. He offered me fifty thousand for it. I said I needed three days to think it over. He’s visiting Calcutta at present. He has a house in Chittaranjan Avenue. So he gave me his address and said he must have my answer by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. He seemed totally determined to get the pearl. If I refuse, he might offer a bit more . . . after that, if I still don’t agree, Mr Mitter, who knows what he might do?’

‘What is this man called?’

‘Maganlal Meghraj.’

Even Feluda was stunned for a few seconds by this revelation. Maganlal! Why did this man keep coming back into our lives? None of our adversaries in the past had been as dangerous as Maganlal. We had already dealt twice with him. Why did he want Mr Boral’s pearl?

‘Look, Mr Boral,’ Feluda said eventually, ‘you’ll have to refuse his offer. That pearl is worth at least five times the amount he’s offered you. He will sell it to a foreign buyer. That’s what he does for a living . . . most of the time, anyway. We know him well.’

‘But what if he doesn’t listen to me? He did say nothing could stop him from getting it.’

‘Yes, he would say that. Tell you what, why don’t you leave your pearl with me? If you take it with you, Maganlal will definitely grab it. He would not hesitate to kill you, if he had to.’

‘My God! What am I going to tell him, Mr Mitter?’

‘Simply say that you didn’t bring it with you since you decided not to sell it. After all, you cannot be expected to roam the streets of Calcutta with something so valuable in your pocket.’

‘Very well, I will leave it with you. Here it is.’

Mr Boral took out the same handkerchief and handed over the red velvet box to Feluda, who locked it away in the Godrej safe that stood in his bedroom. Then he returned to the living room and said, ‘What will you say to Suraj Singh? He is not going to give up easily, either.’

‘Even so, my answer must be no. We’ve had that pearl for a hundred and fifty years. I have no wish to lose it. It’s not as though I’m in desperate need of money. I manage pretty well with my own income—I own some farmland and then I have my salary.’

‘All right. Let’s see what happens tomorrow. You must tell me everything before you go.’

Mr Boral finished his tea and left.

‘I can hardly believe Maganlal’s got involved in this!’ Lalmohan Babu exclaimed when he had gone. ‘God knows what he’ll do this time.’

‘He may have put us in some tricky situations, Lalmohan Babu, but we outwitted him each time, didn’t we? What happens this time depends entirely on Mr Boral and what he tells Maganlal. I only hope Maganlal doesn’t get to know that Boral came to see me.’

‘You took a great risk, Felu Babu. Did you really have to keep the pearl here?’

‘Yes, there was no other way. If I had allowed Mr Boral to keep it with him, it would most certainly have gone to Maganlal tomorrow morning.’

It did not take Mr Boral long to find Maganlal’s house. The exterior of the house was most uninviting; but once he had stepped in, Mr Boral was surprised to see how neat and tidy the place was.

A bearer came down and took him to Maganlal. ‘Jaichand Boral is here, huzoor,’ he said, stopping outside a room at the far end of a passage.

‘Come in!’ called the gruff voice of Maganlal Meghraj.

Mr Boral walked into the room and took a sofa. Maganlal was seated on a mattress spread on the floor.

‘What have you decided?’ he asked.

‘I am not going to sell the pearl.’

Maganlal was silent for a minute. Then he said slowly, ‘You are making a mistake, Mr Boral. No one refuses my offer and gets away with it. Are you hoping to get a bigger amount?’

‘No. I simply wish to keep it in the family. It’s been with us for five generations.’

‘You are not doing very well in life, are you? I saw your house in Sonahati. How much do you earn? Two thousand a month? Just think for a moment. If you sold that pearl to me, you’d get a lot of cash, just like that. Why are you being so foolish?’

‘It’s a matter of family pride. I couldn’t explain it to you.’

‘Where is that pearl?’

‘I haven’t got it.’

‘You mean you didn’t bring it here with you?’

‘No, I didn’t. There was no reason to, since I wasn’t going to sell it to you.’

Maganlal rang a bell. The man who appeared almost instantly was tall and hefty. He looked enquiringly at his master.

‘Ganga, search this man,’ Maganlal ordered.

Ganga pulled Mr Boral to his feet. A thorough search yielded a wallet, a handkerchief and a small box of paan-masala.

‘All right, give the stuff back to him.’

Ganga returned every object.

‘Sit down.’

Mr Boral sat down again.

‘I learnt in Sonahati that your club had given a reception for Pradosh Mitter.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Did you meet him?’

‘Why should I tell you? I don’t have to answer all your questions.’

‘No. There is no need to answer my question because I already know what happened. My men watched your movements from the minute you got off your train at Howrah. You checked into a hotel called Jogamaya, right?’

‘Right.’

‘You left your hotel at five o’clock and took a taxi. Then you went to Felu Mitter’s house, correct?’

‘If you know everything, why are you still asking questions?’

‘That pearl is now with Felu Mitter.’

Mr Boral said nothing. Maganlal looked at him steadily. ‘You have done something very stupid, Mr Boral. If you gave me your pearl, I’d have paid you fifty thousand rupees for it. Now, I will still get the pearl—sooner or later—but you won’t get a single paisa.’

Mr Boral rose. ‘May I go now?’

‘Yes. I have nothing more to say. But I feel sorry for you.’