consignment of pink-ribboned parcels in my bag which I know to contain
contraband and which I also suspect--Frederick's and Binnie's anyway--to
contain amorous missives not meant for vulgar eyes. If I deliver the
parcels with the seals broken I shall get the glacial glare from the
damsels concerned, and when I get back scorpions and poisoned bill-hooks
will be too good for poor Percival."

"Phew!" whistled Sparkes. "They go through your baggage with a fine
toothcomb nowadays. Couldn't you drop over the side with your bag and drift
ashore on a deserted beach, disguised as a floating mine?"

"I've cut impersonations of hardware out of my _répertoire_ since the day I
failed to get past an R.T.O. disguised as a brass-hat," said Percival
sadly. "I suppose I must fall back on direct action. I've a feeling that
England expects every man this day to pay his duty."

On the quay there was the usual mad charge of porters. Percival indicated
his bag to one of them with a distracted air, and followed him to the
Customs House guiltily. The porter dumped the bag before an official, who
had a piece of chalk hopefully poised between his fingers.

"'Nything t' 'clare?" he asked, preparing to affix the sign which spelt
freedom.

Percival blew his nose violently, hoping the chalk would descend to save
him the necessity of answering, but it remained poised in mid-air.

"Anything to declare?" repeated the official, with emphasis.

"Er," said Percival weakly--"nothing that you need worry about--only a few