"Not in his own rooms," Bernard summed up. "Not in mine, not in yours. Not at the Aphroditaum; not at the Centre or the College. Where can he have got to?" Helmholtz shrugged his shoulders. They had come back from their work expecting to find the Savage waiting for them at one or other of the usual meeting-places, and there was no sign of the fellow. Which was annoying, as they had meant to nip across to Biarritz in Helmholtz's four-seater sporticopter. They'd be late for dinner if he didn't come soon.