The Tracer of Lost Persons | Page 2

by noon time, as a rule. When you're forty you

may be tolerated after five o'clock; when you're fifty your wife and
children might even venture to emerge from the cellar after dinner--"
"Wife!"
"I said wife," replied Kerns, as he calmly watched his man.
He had managed it well, so far, and he was wise enough not to overdo
it. An interval of silence was what the situation required.
"I wish I had a wife," muttered Gatewood after a long pause.
"Oh, haven't you said that every day for five years? Wife! Look at the
willing assortment of dreams playing Sally Waters around town. Isn't
this borough a bower of beauty--a flowery thicket where the prettiest
kind in all the world grow under glass or outdoors? And what do you
do? You used to pretend to prowl about inspecting the yearly crop of
posies, growling, cynical, dissatisfied; but you've even given that up.
Now you only point your nose skyward and squall for a mate, and yowl
mournfully that you never have seen your ideal. I know you."
"I never have seen my ideal," retorted Gatewood sulkily, "but I know
she exists--somewhere between heaven and Hoboken."
"You're sure, are you?"
"Oh, I'm sure. And, rich or poor, good or bad, she was fashioned for me
alone. That's a theory of mine; you needn't accept it; in fact, it's none of
your business, Tommy."
"All the same," insisted Kerns, "did you ever consider that if your ideal
does exist somewhere, it is morally up to you to find her?"
"Haven't I inspected every débutante for ten years? You don't expect
me to advertise for an ideal, do you--object, matrimony?"
Kerns regarded him intently. "Now, I'm going to make a vivid
suggestion, Jack. In fact, that's why I subjected myself to the ordeal of
breakfasting with you. It's none of my business, as you so kindly put it,

but--shall I suggest something?"
"Go ahead," replied Gatewood, tranquilly lighting a cigarette. "I know
what you'll say."
"No, you don't. Firstly, you are having such a good time in this world
that you don't really enjoy yourself--isn't that so?"
"I--well I--well, let it go at that."
"Secondly, with all your crimes and felonies, you have one decent trait
left: you really would like to fall in love. And I suspect you'd even
marry."
"There are grounds," said Gatewood guardedly, "for your suspicions. Et
après?"
"Good. Then there's a way! I know--"
"Oh, don't tell me you 'know a girl,' or anything like that!" began
Gatewood sullenly. "I've heard that before, and I won't meet her."
"I don't want you to; I don't know anybody. All I desire to say is this: I
do know a way. The other day I noticed a sign on Fifth Avenue:
KEEN & CO. TRACERS OF LOST PERSONS
It was a most extraordinary sign; and having a little unemployed
imagination I began to speculate on how Keen & Co. might operate,
and I wondered a little, too, that, the conditions of life in this city could
enable a firm to make a living by devoting itself exclusively to the
business of hunting up missing people."
Kerns paused, partly to light a cigarette, partly for diplomatic reasons.
"What has all this to do with me?" inquired Gatewood curiously; and
diplomacy scored one.
"Why not try Keen & Co.?"

"Try them? Why? I haven't lost anybody, have I?"
"You haven't, precisely lost anybody, but the fact remains that you can't
find somebody," returned Kerns coolly. "Why not employ Keen & Co.
to look for her?"
"Look for whom, in Heaven's name?"
"Your ideal."
"Look for--for my ideal! Kerns, you're crazy. How the mischief can
anybody hunt for somebody who doesn't exist?"
"You say that she does exist."
"But I can't prove it, man."
"You don't have to; it's up to Keen & Co. to prove it. That's why you
employ them."
"What wild nonsense you talk! Keen & Co. might, perhaps, be able to
trace the concrete, but how are they going to trace and find the
abstract?"
"She isn't abstract; she is a lovely, healthy, and youthful concrete
object--if, as you say, she does exist."
"How can I prove she exists?"
"You don't have to; they do that."
"Look here," said Gatewood almost angrily, "do you suppose that if I
were ass enough to go to these people and tell them that I wanted to
find my ideal--"
"Don't tell them that!"
"But how--"

"There is no necessity for going into such trivial details. All you need
say is: 'I am very anxious to find a young lady'--and then describe her
as minutely as you please. Then, when they locate a girl of that
description they'll notify you; you will go, judge for yourself whether
she is the one woman on earth--and, if