"Yes," was the hesitating reply.

"Hum!" grunted the Collector, in tones of contempt. "A nice lot of
government detectives you fellows are to admit such a defeat. However, I've
taken the matter into my own hands now."

"Yours?"

"Yes! I've engaged two of the most skillful men in the Secret Service to
run down this smuggler. I refer to Old and Young King Brady."

"Indeed!" sneered the inspector, whose pride was wounded. "I'm sure if we
can't find that smuggler, they can't."

"They can't, eh?" grimly demanded the Collector. "Well, you'll find out
whether they can or not, Andrew Gibson, for they'll be here presently to
take your work right out of your hands. Do you hear me?"

With glum looks the inspectors glanced at each other.

It was a bitter pill for them to swallow, to have an outsider come in to do
the work they found themselves unable to cope with.

Finally Gibson affected a mocking laugh, and said, derisively:

"What can a Secret Service man do in a Custom House case, if we men,
educated for it, can't finish a job we find too hard for us?"

"They'll find the smuggler I'm after," replied the Collector, banging his