"That's no problem," said The Glass Hoover, ever optimistic. "We'll get a few other folks to send in their tales of hitching on the roads of this fair island. That might jog a few memories."
A murmur of general assent came up. Somebody called another round
(again, the guilty party's actual identity is lost to history). The
Glass Hoover, bless him, stuck something into his organiser. Soon
it would be time for him to do his obeah stuff...