NINE SMUGGLERS.
A scene of great animation and excitement was soon transpiring on the pier.
Passengers were swarming down the gangplank of the big steamer, crowds of
friends were waiting to greet them, porters and waiters were landing the
baggage on the dock and stevedores were preparing to discharge the cargo.
The two Bradys took up a favorable position and calling the purser of the
steamer, they induced him to point out several people whose names they
mentioned.
These people were the ones whom they had spotted as smugglers.
Presently the owners of the baggage began opening their trunks and valises
so the inspectors could examine their effects.
While this was going on the Bradys joined the Collector and spoke to him.
He was startled to discover their identity and remarked:
"Well, you certainly have the faculty of hiding your identity in the most
complete manner. Have you found any smugglers yet?"
"Several," replied Harry, quickly.
"Indeed! Who are they?"
"We'll show you when your men get through."
They chatted together until the inspection was finished and all the luggage
had been marked and received the pasters to show they were passed.
"Now call your men and get their report, sir," said Harry.
The Collector did as he was requested.
Out of several hundred passengers only a lace shawl had been captured.
"Is that all you managed to find that was dutiable?" asked Harry, in
surprise, as the searchers gathered round them.
They recognized him by his voice and Gibson growled sarcastically:
"Do you think you can do any better?"
"Oh, my--yes."
"Well, I'd like to see you do it."
"So we shall. Let us begin with Mrs. Harvey. Open her trunk again."
Despite the lady's protests this was done.
Pointing at the tray, Harry said, coolly:
"Pick up that cake of toilet soap, cut it in two and you'll find a very
valuable gentleman's ruby ring and scarf pin buried inside of it."
Gibson complied with a poor grace.
As Harry said, he disclosed the articles mentioned.
"My!" said the lady, innocently, "I wonder how they got there?"
"Madam," replied Harry, politely, "you put them there yourself. As a lady
don't wear such things and you've been traveling alone, it's clear you were
trying to smuggle those things. Seize them, Gibson, and they'll be
appraised in the Custom House. If the lady then wishes to pay the full duty
charged on them she can get back her ornaments."
The Collector burst out laughing.
"Any more?" he asked Old King Brady.
"Yes. See that short fat man? He is Mr. Jacobs, a stock broker. I guess
we'll have to pull off the gentleman's left boot. Hey, Mr. Jacobs!"
"Vell?" growled the fat broker, glancing at the detective in some surprise.
"Sit down on your trunk, please," said Old King Brady.
"Vot for?"
"I'll show you in a moment."
The broker sat down and Harry seized him and held him there.
At the same moment Old King Brady grabbed him by the left foot, gave it a
tug and the struggling man gave a yell, and demanded, excitedly, as the
boot slipped off and remained in the detective's hand:
"Py shiminey, vot yer mean py dot outrages alretty?"
"We think you are cheating the government," replied Old King Brady.
"Vot? Me? You vas grazy!"
"Am I?" blandly asked Old King Brady.
"Sure you are! Vot mein boot vas got mit it ter do?"
"I'll show you, my innocent friend," grimly replied the old detective, as
he drew out his pocket knife.
With the large blade he removed the first layer of leather from the heel
and showed that the heel was hollow.
Lying within this neat little opening was a small paper package which the
detective drew out. Opening the paper he showed its contents.
It consisted of five magnificent diamonds.
The broker gave a gasp of horror and Old King Brady said to him sweetly:
"You forgot to put these on the manifest, Mr. Jacobs, didn't you?"
"_Och, Gott!_" groaned the unlucky broker, in deep anguish of spirit, "I
vas ruint vunct. Vot vill I do? Vot vill I do?"
"Pay the duty and redeem them from the Custom House," replied the
detective, and the gems were seized on the spot.
All the inspectors looked envious of the two detectives.
The Collector regarded them with a cold glance and finally asked:
"Why didn't you find these things?"
"Didn't know they had 'em," sheepishly replied Gibson.
"We ain't half through yet," said Harry at this juncture.
"What else have you discovered?" demanded the Collector, curiously.
"Several hundred yards of fine point lace."
"Where is it?"
"In a false bottom under Miss Daisy Linden's trunk. See--there she
stands--that handsome big actress there. Do you think she's as fat as she
looks? Well, just notice how big around her body is, and how thin her arms
and neck are. If you'll get one of the lady inspectors to examine her
privately, you'll find she's got several valuable oil paintings wrapped
around her body, under her clothes."
The woman made a great fuss when they insisted upon rummaging in her trunk
a second time and reluctantly opened it again.
Harry threw everything out and the woman shrieked, scolded and protested.
But when the boy opened the false bottom of the trunk and withdrew the lace
he mentioned, she fainted.
When the actress came to, she found that a lady inspector had disrobed her
in a stateroom on the steamer and taken five very costly paintings away,
which she was smuggling under her clothes.
By the time the Bradys finished, they had nine smugglers exposed, and fully
quarter of a million dollars' worth of valuables were seized.
The Collector had been watching these proceedings with deep interest.
When his own men reached him, he said to them:
"I'm ashamed of you. Here you let two absolutely green men step in and do
the work you've been at for years, much better than you do it yourselves."
"Well," grimly admitted Gibson, "they've kept their boast and beaten us
badly, I'm sorry to say. I don't need to wish them luck for they've got
either a large amount of it, or else they had some inside information."
"Your latter surmise is the correct one," said Harry. "We sent a man down
the bay to meet the steamer. People who are going to smuggle anything
rarely take pains to conceal their contraband goods till they are nearing
port. We know something about the matter, you see. Moreover, we know
would-be smugglers who don't make a profession of it are very careless,
talkative about what they are going to smuggle, and apt to give themselves
away. By sending a good, smart spotter ahead we learned all about the
people we've exposed."
"That game may work very nicely with amateurs. But it would not go with a
professional smuggler by any means."
"I quite agree with you," assented Harry.
"Well," said the Collector, "I'm quite satisfied with your performance, Mr.
Brady, and am convinced that you are the very men to run down the big
smuggler I am so anxious to see arrested."
"We'll do our best," said Old King Brady.
The Collector and the inspectors then went away.
As they were leaving the pier, the quick, keen eyes of Harry observed a
young girl on the steamer acting in a mysterious manner.
She was standing in the gangway, peering out one of the port holes and
sharply watching the departing officials.
Every time one of them chanced to glance back, she suddenly dodged down
behind the bulwark out of sight.
She was a beautiful girl of about sixteen, handsomely clad in a short dress
and zouave waist of fine silk, while a stylish big Gainsborough hat with
black ostrich plumes crowned her short, yellow, curly hair.
Her skin was as white as milk and she had a pair of big brown eyes, a
pretty little Grecian nose and rosebud lips.
Young King Brady was charmed with her beauty, yet his suspicions of her
actions were aroused to the fever point.
He touched his partner on the arm and pointed at her.
"See there!" he exclaimed. "What can she be up to?"
"We'd better keep an eye on her, Harry," returned the old detective, after
a careful survey. "It looks to me as if she were up to some trick. She
wouldn't be watching those inspectors' departure that way unless it was of
vital importance to her."
"But surely she can't be so silly as to think there are no officers left
here. Everyone knows that a couple remain constantly on the watch in their
office at the entrance to the dock."
"Ha! What's that? She's waving her handkerchief to that man who is coming
out on the pier from West street."
Young King Brady gazed keenly at the person in question and suddenly
recognizing him he exclaimed in excited tones:
"Why, it's Paul La Croix, the diamond smuggler!"
"So it is, by thunder!"
"And this beautiful girl must be his daughter, for she greatly resembles
him."
"Harry, I believe that pair are up to some crooked work!"
"We can find out by watching them."
La Croix now went aboard the steamer and joined the girl in the gangway.