"Thinking of Monty?" asked Daphne and Maude nodded: "it's the anniversary today, 70 years," and a tear trickled down her papery cheek, she rubbed it away with the back of her hand, "he was so insouciant that day, I know you all thought him too volatile for an academic career, but that was all a façade, he'd just received his acceptance letter from Edinburgh that morning and was so happy, and utterly calm; what kind of cruelty would make him an unperson, just disappear him like that? he was the first, to my knowledge, but who knows how many other could it have happened to? we've had more than enough here over the past few years, and those sudden appearances: the American soldiers!" and Daphne reached out for Maude's hand: "and like them, like Tavish and the others, Thomas Learmonth, Patience Scott, Elizabeth Bennett. he may come back yet," but Maude shook her head: "but Wild Bill, Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley arrived here from the Wild West, Rasputin from Russia – this might be a hub but the Wormholes go anywhere through Time and Space; he might be anywhere, past, future, or even present, there's no way of knowing! oh I remember that Police Inspector who came here to interview me, such an ekphrasis I had to give him, over and over again, it was though he was trying to get me to make a slip somewhere, contradict myself, but when all that has happened is that the person who was lying on his back on the grass, right here, where we are now, simply vanished, it was like that thing we used to do with the cine-camera, remember, stop it, and the person who was in the frame, hops off, and the start again and it looks just like that, the only thing that has changed is that who was there now isn't, and I told him over and over, but I'm sure he didn't believe a word!"