"Boonekamp?" I echoed stupidly.
"That's the word," the little Jew chuckled, laughing at my dumbfounded expression, "and, if you want to know, I understand it as little as you do."
"But ... Boonekamp," I repeated. "Is it a man's name, a place? It sounds Dutch. Have you no idea? ... come, I'm ready to pay."
"Perhaps ..." the Jew began.
"What? Perhaps what?" I exclaimed impatiently.
"Possibly...."
"Out with it, man!" I cried, "and say what you mean."
"Perhaps, if I could render to the gentleman the service I rendered to his brother, I might be able to throw light...."
"What service did you render to my brother?" I demanded hastily. "I'm in the dark."
"Has the gentleman no little difficulty perhaps? ... about his military service, about his papers? The gentleman is young and strong ... has he been to the front? Was life irksome there? Did he ever long for the sweets of home life? Did he never envy those who have been medically rejected? The rich men's sons, perhaps, with clever fathers who know how to get what they want?"