Explosive Adventures by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

its tail so hard that the tiger jumped off his back and retreated into the jungle. That isn’t at all unusual for a Gopal. That is how a Gopal behaves.
    “‘The second thing I want to say to you is this. Now that I am a poor man, I cannot leave you great riches on this earth. All I have is this box of a few rupees and this book. Use the rupees to go off and make your fortune, and use what isin the book to start a great bubblegum factory again. Remember that the Gopals have always been bubblegum people.’
    “And with that my father gave me the box and the book. Then he reached out and touched me lightly on the head, went into his room, and put on a simple white robe. After that, he said goodbye to me, shook my hand, and walked out of the house.
    “I watched him walk down the path from the house and then off on to the dusty road. People do that in India. When they reach a certain time of life, they sometimes just walk off and become holy men and never come back. That is what my father did.
    “My eyes were filled with tears as I watched him go. I knew, though, that this was what he wanted to do – his heart, you see, was broken when his factory burned down. Then, a short while later I set off on my own travels. These eventually brought me here – to this town – where I worked hard, day and night, until I had saved enough money to build the bubblegum factory in which you are sitting right at this very moment.”
    Mr Gopal was silent for a moment, and Billy wondered whether he had come to the end of his story. But he had not.
    “You will be asking yourself, Billy, What was in that book? Well, I shall tell you.
    “When I opened the book, I had a great surprise. I don’t know quite what I had expected to find inside, but all that I saw was line after line of writing that made no sense at all. My father, you must realise, had written the whole thing in code, and he had forgotten to give me the key!
    “So I sat and looked at the meaningless jumble of letters and tried to make some sense of it. What on earth could momixaying bomowl mean? And why did the word gomum keep appearing? I was quite at aloss as to what to do, and so I just carried the little book around with me, tucked away in my inside pocket.
    “Then a short while later, on a long train journey from Bombay, I found myself sitting opposite a man who was busy doing a crossword puzzle. It was a hot afternoon, and I was half asleep as the train chugged along on its journey. But then, as my eyes rested on my fellow passenger, I was brought back to wakefulness by the sheer speed with which he was solving the clues. His pencil seemed to dart across the paper like a bird, filling in the letters, and in no time at all he had finished the puzzle.

    “I sat bolt upright.
    “‘Excuse me, sir,’ I said. ‘I noticed that you were very quick in solving that puzzle. I wonder if you could help me.’
    “The other man looked at me over the glasses that were perched on the tip of his nose.
    “‘You are addressing Mr P.J. Lal,’ he said, ‘the crossword puzzle champion of all India. If it is a crossword clue that is worrying you, then you are undoubtedly speaking to the right man.’
    “I was encouraged by his helpfulness, and I immediately took out my little book and opened it before him.
    “‘This was given to me by my father,’ I said. ‘And he did not give me the key to his code. It contains something I am very keen to read.’
    “Mr P.J. Lal took the book from me and examined the writing. ‘May I ask you what your father’s name was?’ he said.
    “I told him, and he wrote the letters of his name out on a strip of paper. Then the stub of pencil darted about, scribbling other letters underneath and moving them about. I watched in fascination and was very disappointed when, after several minutes, Mr P.J. Lal shook his head.
    “‘And what was the name of your grandfather?’ he asked.
    “I told him, and on another strip of paper he wrote out, in large