“The obvious thing to do is to chase him up instantly.  Where did you say he lived?”

“His mother told me he was going to New York to practise medicine.”

“But didn’t you ever hear from him again?  I mean, was that the end of it all?”

“Yes?”

“Then you don’t even know if he has married since?”

“No,”

“Nor died?”

“No.”

“Nor anything at all?”

“No.”

“What was his first name?”

“Wait a moment . . . let me think yes, it was Harry.”

“Just Harry Jones, then, New York City?”

Freddy laughed forlornly.

“But he must have had antecedents,” I cried out.  “There are two ways of doing this Sherlock Holmes business—­backward and forward, you know.  Let’s take Doctor Jones backward.  As they say in post-office forms—­what was his place of origin?”

“New York City.”

“He begins there and ends there, does he, then?”

“Yes.”

“But how sure are you that Eleanor would marry him if I did manage to find him and bring him back?”

“I’m not sure at all.”

“No, but Freddy, listen—­it’s important.  You told me yourself that she—­I want the very identical words she used.”

Freddy reflected.

“She said she was almost sorry she hadn’t accepted that silly doctor!”

“That doesn’t seem much, does it?” I remarked gloomily.

“Oh, from Eleanor it does, Ezra.  She said it quite seriously.  She always hides her feelings under a veil of sarcastic humor, you know.”

“You’re certainly a very difficult family to marry,” I said.

“Being an orphan—­” she began.

“Well, I’m going to find that Jones if I—­”

“Ezra, dear boy, you’re crazy.  How could you think for a moment that—­”

“I’m off, little girl.  Good-by!”

“Wait a second, Ezra!”

She rose and went into the next room, reappearing with something in her hand.  She was crying and smiling both at once.  I took the little case she gave me—­it was like one of those things that pen-knives are put in and looked at her for an explanation.

“It’s the h-h-hindleg of a j-j-jack-rabbit,” she said, “shot by a g-g-grave at the f-f-full of the moon.  It’s supposed to be l-l-lucky.  It was given to me by a naval officer who got drowned.  It’s the only way I can h-h-help you!”

And thus equipped I started bravely for New York.

II

In the directory I found eleven pages of Joneses; three hundred and eighty-four Henry Joneses; and (excluding seventeen dentists) eighty-seven Doctor Henry Joneses.  I asked one of the typists in the office to copy out the list, and prepared to wade in.  We were on the eve of a labor war, and it was exceedingly difficult for me to get away.  As the managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, boxers (not punching boxers, nor China boxers, but just plain American box-making boxers), I had to bear the brunt of the whole affair, and had about as much spare time as you could heap on a ten-cent piece.  I had to be firm, conciliatory, defiant and tactful all at once, and every hour I took off for Jonesing threatened to blow the business sky-high.  It was a tight place and no mistake, and it was simply jackrabbit hindleg luck that pulled me through!