"Isn't it expecting a great deal of any stable lad, however bright, to uncover something which has got men like you up a gum-tree?"

He grimaced.

"Yes. That is one of the difficulties I mentioned. We're scraping the bottom of the barrel, though. Any idea is worth trying.

Any. You can't realize how serious the situation is. "

We walked over to his car, and he opened the door.

"Well, thank you for your patience, Mr. Roke. As I said, it was an impulse, coming here. I hope I haven't wasted too much of your afternoon?" He smiled, still looking slightly hesitant and disconcerted.

I shook my head and smiled back and he started the car, turned it, and drove off down the road. He was out of my thoughts before he was through the gate posts.

Out of my thoughts; but not by a long way out of my life.

He came back again the next afternoon at sundown. I found him sitting patiently smoking in the small blue car, having no doubt discovered that there was no one in the house. I walked back towards him from the stable block where I had been doing my share of the evening's chores, and reflected idly that he had again caught me at my dirtiest.

He got out of the car when he saw me coming, and stamped on his cigarette.

"Mr. Roke." He held out his hand, and I shook it.

This time he made no attempt to rush into speech. This time he had not come on impulse. There was absolutely no hesitation in his manner:

instead, his natural air of authority was much more pronounced, and it struck me that it was with this power that he set out to persuade a boardroom full of hard directors to agree to an unpopular proposal.

I knew instantly, then, why he had come back.

I looked at him warily for a moment: then gestured towards the house and led him again into the livingroom.

"A drink?" I asked.

"Whisky?"

"Thank you." He took the glass.

"If you don't mind," I said, "I will go and change." And think, I added privately.