A Killer in Kailash: Adventures of Feluda Read Online Free

a while.
    ‘Well, he's certainly not going to take it back to Bhubaneshwar,’ Feluda replied. ‘What he might do is find another buyer. After all, it isn't often that one gets the chance to sell the same thing twice!’
    The blue car finally brought us to Park Street. We drove past the old cemetery, Lowdon Street, Camac Street, and then suddenly, it turned left and drove into a building called Queen’s Mansion.
    ‘Should I go in, sir?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Our taxi passed through the front gates. A huge open square faced us, surrounded by tall blocks of flats. A number of cars and a couple of scooters were parked before these. The blue car went to the far end and stopped. We waited in our taxi to see what happened next.
    The man got out with a black bag, wound up the windows of his car, locked it and slipped into Queen’s Mansion through a large door. Feluda waited for another minute, then followed him.
    By the time we reached the door, the old-fashioned lift in the lobby had already gone up, making a great deal of noise. It came back a few seconds later. An old liftman emerged from behind its collapsible gate. Feluda went up to him.
    ‘Did I just miss Mr Sengupta?’ he asked anxiously.
    ‘Mr Sengupta?’
    ‘The man who just went up?’
    ‘That man was Mr Mallik of number five. There's no Sengupta in this building.’
    ‘Oh. I must have made a mistake. Sorry.’
    We came away. Mr Mallik, flat number five. I must remember these details.
    Feluda paid Balaram Ghosh and said he was no longer needed. Before driving off, he gave us a piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. ‘That's my neighbour’s number,’ he said. ‘If you ever need me, ring that number. My neighbour will call me. I'd love to be able to help, sir. You see, life’s usually so boring that something like this comes as a tremendous … I mean, it makes a change, doesn't it?’
    We made our way to the Park Street police station. Feluda knew its OC, Mr Haren Mutsuddi. Two years ago, they had worked together to trace the culprit who had poisoned a race horse called Happy-Go-Lucky. It turned out that Mr Mutsuddi was aware of the theft in Bhubaneshwar. Feluda told him briefly about our encounter with Mr Mallik and said, ‘Even if Mallik is not the real thief, he has clearly taken it upon himself to recover the stolen object and pass it on to someone else. I have come to make two requests, Mr Mutsuddi. Someone must keep an eye on his movements, and I need to know who he really is and where he works. He lives in flat number five, Queen’s Mansion, drives a blue Ambassador, WMA 5349.’
    Mr Mutsuddi heard Feluda in silence. Then he removed a pencil that was tucked behind his ear and said, ‘Very well, Mr Mitter. If you want these things done, they will be done. A special constable will follow your man everywhere, and I’ll see if we have anything in our files on him. There's no guarantee, mind you, that I’ll get anything, particularly if he hasn’t actually broken the law.’
    ‘Thank you. But please treat this matter as urgent. If that statue gets passed on to someone else, we'll be in big trouble.’
    ‘Why?’ Mr Mutsuddi smiled, ‘Why should you be in big trouble, Mr Mitter? You'll have me and the entire police force to help you. Doesn't that count for anything? We’re not totally useless, you know. But there's just one thing I'd like to tell you. The people behind such rackets are usually quite powerful. I'm not talking of physical strength. I mean they often manage to do things far worse and much more vile than ordinary petty criminals. I am telling you all this, Mr Mitter, because you are young and talented, and I look upon you as a friend.’
    ‘Thank you, Mr Mutsuddi. I appreciate your concern.’
    We left the police station and went to the Chinese restaurant, Waldorf, to have lunch. Feluda went to the manager’s room to make a call after we had placed our order.
    ‘I rang Mallik,’ he said when he came back. ‘He was