I hurried through my bath. When I came out, I found Bimal sitting on the floor outside.[1] Could this be my Bimal of old, my proud, sensitive Bimal?
What favour could she be wanting to beg, seated like this at my door? As I stopped short, she stood up and said gently with downcast eyes: 'I would have a word with you.'
'Come inside then,' I said.
'But are you going out on any particular business?'
'I was, but let that be. I want to hear......'
'No, finish your business first. We will have our talk after you have had your dinner.'
I went off to my sitting-room, to find the Police Inspector's plate quite empty. The person he had brought with him, however, was still busy eating.
'Hullo!' I ejaculated in surprise. 'You, Amulya?'
'It is I, sir,' said Amulya with his mouth full of cake. 'I've had quite a feast. And if you don't mind, I'll take the rest with me.' With this he proceeded to tie up the remaining cakes in his handkerchief.
'What does this mean?' I asked, staring at the Inspector.
The man laughed. 'We are no nearer, sir,' he said, 'to solving the problem of the thief: meanwhile the mystery of the theft deepens.' He then produced something tied up in a rag, which when
- ↑ Sitting on the bare floor is a sign of mourning, and so, by association of ideas, of an abject attitude of mind.—Tr.
