"A lady," said I.
"Oh, of course—a lady."
"And an English lady," I added. "I could tell that by the tone of her voice."
"She may have been Canadian."
"Yes. Many of the Canadian ladies have the English tone."
"Well, that may be all very true," said Jack, after some moments' thought; "but at the same time it isn't any guide at all. Macrorie, my boy, it's evident that in this instance all the ordinary modes of investigation are no good. Streets, churches, drawing-rooms, photographic saloons, hotel registers, directories, and all that sort of thing are utterly useless. We must try some other plan."
"That's a fact," said I, "but what other plan can be thought of?"
Jack said nothing for some time.
He sat blowing and puffing, and puffing and blowing, apparently bringing all the resources of his intellect to bear upon this great problem. At last he seemed to hit upon an idea.
"I have it!" he exclaimed. "I have it. It's the only thing left."