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carefully in waxed paper out of his bag. It was obviously from an extremely expensive cookie boutique uptown. He gave it to the guess artist.
    —Thank you, said the guess artist.
    —See you around, said June and Takashi.
    The guess artist watched them walk off down the boardwalk. What a nice couple, he thought to himself.
    At that moment, the young man in the gray-blue suit approached the guess artist’s booth. He was a serious young man with a way of moving that said, I am trying to be extraordinarily quiet right now even though it makes no difference.
    —Hello, said the guess artist.
    —Hello, said the young man.
    —When you were standing over by the railing you were thinking about the time you parachuted from a small prop plane. It was your first time, and so you had to have someone jump with you, attached to your back. Nonetheless, the experience was wonderful. The day was slightly cloudy, and so you fell through hundreds of wisps of cloud, to emerge into an open sky over the Hudson Valley.
    —Not really, said the young man.
    The guess artist raised an eyebrow.
    —Earlier today, I thought about that, said the young man. Just now I thought about how I had been thinking about that, to be precise. And anyway, the thing isn’t what I was thinking about when I was standing over there. It’s what I’m thinking about right now.
    —True, said the guess artist. Give me a minute.
    He looked at the young man again. Perhaps he resembled an animal that had been turned into a human being by some accident, and now was trying to make the best of the situation. Yes, said the guess artist to himself, that’s the way it is.
    —Well…said the young man.
    —You’re looking for a girl, said the guess artist. You had hoped she would be on the boardwalk, but she’s not. She’s upstairs somewhere, you think, though you don’t know where.
    —Well, said the young man again, I think—
    —But, continued the guess artist, you’re worried that you won’t be able to find her alone, and in truth, you will not be able to find her alone. She is too hard to find. You will need help. Somehow you knew that I was the only one who could help you. That’s why you’ve come here every day for the last week and stood over there watching me. Also, just now you noticed my chocolate-chip cookie and you want a bite. Ask me for a piece.
    —Can I have a piece of your chocolate-chip cookie? asked the young man.
    —Yes, said the guess artist. And, I will help you find this girl.
    He broke the cookie into two halves. When he did this, the cookie broke beautifully. The substance it was made of was quite obviously the most extraordinary substance that one could make a chocolate-chip cookie from and still call it a chocolate-chip cookie. The two ate the cookie in silence. When they were done, the young man said,
    —That’s the best chocolate-chip cookie I have ever eaten, or seen.
    —Let’s go, said the guess artist. There isn’t much time. Do you have anything to show me, any clues to where she might be?
    The young man slid an envelope out of his sleeve. He did it so quickly and well that the guess artist smiled at the artfulness of the gesture. There was a letter in the envelope. It said:
     

     
    Hey, you,
     
     
    I’m in a hurry, so I can’t write much. Meet me at Pier 12 at four a.m. two nights from now. Is there such a thing as useless obfuscation? I don’t think so.
     
     
    Resolutely yours,
     

     

     
    —Hmmm, said the guess artist. What happened when you went to the pier?
    —It was very strange, said the young man.
    At this the guess artist straightened up in his chair. The young man did not seem like the sort of person who used the word strange lightly.
    —When I got there, there was some kind of selection process going on. There were many girls, all dressed alike in white linen sundresses. Also, they all looked vaguely like Her. But they weren’t Her. None of them was Her. Some of them even, while they were waiting for