Mario Gonzalo has done the unthinkable—he’s brought a woman as his guest to the monthly Black Widower banquet. She’s a visitor to New York who’s been roughly handled by some kids and rescued by a youth—but she can’t remember his name or where he lives and wants to find him to thank him properly. From what she remembers of their conversation, Henry is able to deduce his address, and all ends well.
I dislike the story, not because of the presence of The Woman, nor because of the tremendous fight over her presence that occupies (it seems) the first half of the story, although I find the latter unpleasant in the extreme. (I don’t like seeing Black Widowers at each other’s throats.) No, the problem is that the puzzle is a slight one and the solution far from either obvious or satisfactory. I can live without it.
