You can see them when you get to England. But I'm afraid they will be no use to you. They were very fragmentary. "

"I see," I said. We walked along the street to where our two cars were parked, his hired blue Holden, and my white utility. Standing beside the two dusty vehicles I remarked, "You want to believe it was an accident… I think you want to believe it very much."

He nodded soberly.

"It is appallingly disturbing to think anything else. If it weren't for those eight missing hours one would have no doubt at all."

I shrugged.

"He could have spent them in dozens of harmless ways. In a bar. Having dinner. In a cinema. Picking up a girl."

"Yes, he could," he said. But the doubt remained, both in his mind and mine.

He was to drive the hired Holden back to Sydney the following day and fly to England. He shook hands with me in the street and gave me his address in London, where I was to meet him again. With the door open and with one foot in the car he said, "I suppose it would be part of your… er… procedure to appear as a slightly, shall we say, unreliable type of stable lad, so that the crooked element would take to you?"

"Definitely," I grinned.

"Then, if I might suggest it, it would be a good idea for you to grow a couple of sideburns. It's surprising what a lot of distrust can be caused by an inch of extra hair in front of the ears!"

I laughed.

"A good idea."

"And don't bring many clothes," he added.

"I'll fix you up with British stuff suitable for your new character."

"All right."

He slid down behind the wheel.

"Au revoir, then, Mr. Roke."

"Au revoir. Lord October," I said.