Chandra, thank Heaven, was in his office. Most of his days were spent at one or other of the family jute factories north of the city, and running him to earth there might have been difficult. He responded to my call for help with typical courtesy. I couldn’t tell how inconvenient my request might be. All he would say was, “I will come at once.”

While he was on the way I packed my cases in five minutes, checked out of my room in another three, and paced the lobby impatiently until he appeared. When he arrived I was trembling and my head was hurting like hell again, but Chandra was as unflappable as ever.

He took the page from me and studied it in silence for a couple of minutes. When he looked up his smooth face was puzzled.

“Can you understand it?” I asked.

He shrugged. “The words? Certainly. But before I can tell what they mean I think we ought to take a look at this.” He tapped the sheet where the coded message appeared. “This part is clear enough. ‘CBC’ is the Central Bank of Calcutta , and I imagine this is simply the number of the Safety Deposit Box, and the code that we need to access it.”

“And the other messages?”

“I do not know about the English address. But the message here says that in the absence of Mr. Singh, household decisions are all to be made by Ameera, and that all bills are to be sent to the Central Bank of Calcutta for payment.” Chandra arched an eyebrow at me. “Do you know of the woman Ameera?”

“Yes.” It seemed to be time to tell Chandra more about everything, if he had time to listen. “Can you get what is in this safety deposit box?”

“I don’t see why not. But what am I to do with it?”

“Bring it with you to a house near here. The driver outside can give you directions how to get to it.”

Chandra looked at me again, but apparently decided to let further questions wait. We parted, and as the driver puttered his way back to the house I wondered again what I was going to do next. No matter what was in Leo’s safety deposit, I couldn’t see how it would take me any closer to the mystery of T.P. or the Belur Package.

Ameera was still missing. I spent the time until Chandra arrived looking again at the papers in the study, and confirming my intent to call Sir Westcott as soon as I could. Something was worse inside my head, and I had to know what it was.

I went upstairs to the bedroom and ran cold water over my hands and forehead. When I came down again Chandra was there, talking rapidly in Bengali to Chatterji. He had a package of papers under his arm.

“I think we must talk in private,” he said, and I led the way through to the study. His look suggested that I had to provide some explanations. I poured a brandy for each of us — Chandra, like me, had a good musician’s digestion — then told him everything I knew. His look changed slowly from skepticism to intrigue.

“You are two people now? Lionel and Leo? It is a tale from Hindu myth, Parmara and Peruma.” Chandra tapped the package he was holding. “Leo has a sense of humor, too. Did you know that this house is owned by a Mr. Singh?”

“Chatterji — the man you were talking to — called me Singh when first he saw me.”

“That was Leo’s joke. ‘Singh’ means ‘lion’ — just the same as Leo and Lionel do. This was Leo’s house, and according to these papers, you now own it and all its contents.” Chandra gave me an odd look. “All its contents. And that means you now have the responsibility for looking after them. Goods and people.”

“People! How many people? This house seems to be full of them.”

“Eight, according to Chatterji.” Chandra tapped the package again. “If you have worries about the cost of supporting them, this will reassure you. The assets that ‘Mr. Singh’ holds in the Central Bank of Calcutta are considerable. But there is one other complication.”

Chandra paused, and the look on his face told me I wouldn’t like what was coming.

“I don’t see how it could get much more complicated,” I said. “Eight servants and a house — I’ve never owned as much as a dog kennel before.”

He coughed. “Perhaps not. How much do you know of the Code of Manu — the forms of marriage ceremony that are practiced here?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It is the old code that enumerates the permitted forms of marriage. There were eight of them, but these days only two are still in use. There is the Brahma, the approved form, and there is the Asura, which is a form of purchase of the bride by the bridegroom. It has been officially banned, but is still in use. These documents show that your brother, under the name of Singh, went through the Asura form of ceremony with a woman who was brought here from Bihar .”

I knew what was coming.

“Ameera?”

“That is correct.” Chandra didn’t look either surprised or shocked. “This may be a complication.”

I admired his gift for understatement. It seemed like a time for another brandy, though I was still not sure what drink might do to my aching head.

“Any other bombshells in that package? We might as well get the whole thing over at once.”

“No bombshell, but it seems that your brother went to extraordinary measures to keep this house and his financial affairs in this city a secret. There are bank statements here, both deposits and withdrawals, but the deposits are always money orders rather than checks, and the withdrawals are always via another local bank — hard to trace back here. What do you think your brother was doing?”

What indeed? I shook my head, then wished I hadn’t. “That’s what I’m here to find out — if I can. These other things, the house and Ameera, they certainly make things more difficult. Is there anything else at all in that package? So far I’ve heard nothing but trouble.”

“A list.” Chandra puffed out his full cheeks. “It is of places and people, but they mean nothing to me. I looked again when you told me of the men who pursued your brother, but I see none of their names here. Perhaps you will be able to find some clue that I cannot see.”

As he spoke, I heard voices outside the study. A few seconds later Ameera moved to the doorway and stood there, turning her head from side to side. She clearly knew we were in the room but she was not sure where we were sitting. I stood up and moved to take her hand. As our fingers met I instinctively drew my thumb gently across her palm. She gasped, and I felt a tingle through my scalp. Somehow I knew it had been Leo’s gesture of greeting to her. I led Ameera across the room to settle in an armchair next to me.

Chandra was frowning as he took a close look at her. Instead of his usual polite greeting he gabbled a quick question in Bengali. Ameera gave him a terse answer. He nodded and spoke again, and after a brief questioning frown she rose and left the room. I marvelled again at the easy way she navigated through the furniture, knowing precisely where each chair and table was placed.

“Another little problem,” said Chandra as soon as Ameera had left. I winced. “She has gone to have tea served to us. I thought it better to talk without her here.”

I looked at him warily. “What now?”

“You seem to know little of Indian women. We are a race that matures early, and we marry young.” He smiled. “Think of me as the exception that proves the rule, all right? As soon as I saw Ameera I thought that she must be much younger than you realized, so I asked her age.”

“Nineteen?” I said hopefully.

“Fourteen.” Chandra leaned back in his chair. “Illegal, of course, but not at all uncommon. It does mean that an Indian court will take Ameera’s side should there be any argument as to rights. We must assume that your brother was sleeping with her, I suppose?”

He was diplomatically looking away from me.

“I suppose so.” My voice sounded hoarse and (to me, at any rate) full of guilt.

“I will leave any discussion of that between the two of you.” Chandra stood up. “If there are financial matters that I can help you with, of course I’ll be happy to do my best. For the rest, I suspect that the arrangements in this house may be settled better without me.”