Byomkesh had been to Cuttack on official work, I had accompanied him too. After a few days, it became evident that the task would not be accomplished quickly, that it would take time to rummage through a mountain of deeds and documents in the government office to unearth the truth. Accordingly, Byomkesh stayed on in Cuttack, while I returned to Calcutta. How could a Bengali household be expected to run without the presence of a man at home?

On my return to Calcutta, however, I had no work. I was feeling a little helpless in Byomkesh’s absence. Winter was setting in, the days were getting shorter; and yet the hours refused to pass. Occasionally I would visit the shop, supervise Prabhat, who ran the shop, read new manuscripts if any. But still there was nothing to do for most part of the day.

Then an opportunity to pass the evenings presented itself unexpectedly.

We lived in a three-storied building, occupying five rooms on the top floor, while a dozen or so office goers messed together on the first floor. On the ground floor were the manager’s room, the pantry, the kitchen and the dining room, with just one corner room being occupied by a solitary boarder. We were familiar with all of them, but not particularly intimate with any.

That evening, I had just switched on the light after darkness had fallen and opened a magazine when there was a knock on the door. Opening the door, I discovered a middle-aged gentleman standing outside, smiling deferentially. I had seen him once or twice on the first floor of our building, where he had taken up residence recently. He occupied the best corner room on the floor all by himself. He appeared to be a man of refined tastes, being dressed in a warm Nehru jacket and a silk churidar, his hair more black than white. He was well turned out.

Greeting me, he said, ‘Excuse me, my name is Bhupesh Chatterjee. I live on the first floor.’

‘I’ve seen you now and then,’ I replied, ‘though I was not familiar with your name. Do come in.’

I gave him a seat in my room. ‘I came to Calcutta a month-and-a-half ago. I work for an insurance company; there’s no telling where I’ll be next. Tomorrow they might transfer me somewhere else altogether, for all you know.’

‘You work for an insurance company,’ I said with some unease. ‘But I have never taken out a policy, nor am I planning to.’

‘That’s not what I came for,’ he smiled. ‘It’s true that I work at the insurance office, but I’m not an agent. I came because …’ After an awkward pause, he said, ‘I’m addicted to bridge. I haven’t had a game ever since I came here, I’m dying for one. After much effort I’ve managed to find two more players. They live in Room No. 3 on the first floor. But we haven’t been able to find a fourth. We