oday we were having samosas with our tea instead of daalmut. Lalmohan Babu had brought these from a shop that had recently opened in his neighbourhood. ‘It’s a shop called Let’s Eat, and the samosas they make are absolutely out of this world!’ he had told us a few days ago. Having just demolished the ones he had brought, Feluda and I found ourselves in full agreement. ‘Have you worked out the plot of your next book?’ Feluda asked Jatayu. ‘Yes, sir, including the title: Flummoxed in Florence. My hero, Prakhar Rudra, behaves like Pradosh Mitter in this book.’ ‘Really? He’s a lot sharper, is he? And brighter?’ Feluda laughed. ‘You bet!’ ‘What about his creator? Is he any smarter?’ ‘Well, Felu Babu, all these years of hovering around you was bound to have had some effect.’ ‘Yes, but I shall be convinced only if you can pass a test.’ ‘A test? What kind of a test?’ ‘An observation test. Tell me, do you notice any change in me—or my appearance—since yesterday?’ Lalmohan Babu got up, stepped back and looked carefully at Feluda. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he shook his head. ‘No, I can’t spot any difference at all.’ ‘Then you’ve failed, and so has Prakhar Rudra. I cut my nails, after about a month, only minutes before you arrived. If you look at the floor, you’ll find some bits there, shaped like the crescent moon.’ ‘Oh. Oh, I see what you mean.’ Lalmohan Babu looked a little crestfallen. Then he perked up and said, ‘Very well. Now you tell me if you can spot any changes in me.’ ‘Shall I?’ ‘Yes, do.’ Feluda put his empty cup down on a table and picked up his packet of Charminar. Then he said, ‘Number one, you had used Lux until yesterday. Today I can smell Cinthol. A result of ads on TV?’ ‘Yes, quite right. Anything else?’ ‘You are wearing a new kurta. The top button is open, presumably because you found it difficult to insert it in the buttonhole. Normally all your buttons are in place.’ ‘Correct!’ ‘There’s more.’ ‘What else?’

‘You take garlic every morning, don’t you? I can smell it as soon as you come and sit here. Today I can’t.’ ‘Yes, I know. My servant gets it ready for me, but today he forgot. He’s getting quite careless. I had to have a stern word with him. Garlic is a wonderful substance, Felu Babu. I’ve been taking it regularly since ’86. My whole system—’ Before he could continue this eulogy on garlic, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find a young man of about the same age as Feluda. Feluda stood up. ‘Please come in,’ he said. ‘Are you—?’ ‘Yes, I am Pradosh Mitter.’ The man sat down on a sofa and said, ‘My name is Shankar Munshi. You may have heard of my father, Dr Rajen Munshi.’ ‘The psychiatrist?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I seem to have read something on him recently. Wasn’t there a press