Under Cover Part 8

Duncan nodded acquiescence.

"It's a h.e.l.l of a thing when a government official has to live on his salary," he said regretfully. "They didn't ought to expect it of us."

"What do they care?" Gibbs a.s.serted bitterly, and then added with that inquiring air which had frequently been mistaken for intelligence: "Ain't it funny that it's always women who smuggle? They'll look you right in the eye and lie like the very devil, and if you do land 'em they ain't ashamed, only sore!"

Duncan a.s.sumed his most superior air.

"I guess men are honester than women, Jim, and that's the whole secret."

"They certainly are about smuggling," the other returned. "Why, we grabbed one of these here rich society women this morning and pulled out about forty yards of old lace--and say, where do you think she had it stowed?"

"Sewed it round her petticoat," Duncan said with a grin. He had had experience.

Gibbs shook his head, "No. It was in a hot-water bottle. That was a new one on me. Well, when we pinched her she just turned on me as cool as you please: 'You've got me now, but d.a.m.n you, I've fooled you lots of times before!'"

Gibbs leaned back in enjoyment of his own imitation of the society lady's voice and watched Duncan looking over some declaration papers.

Duncan looked up with a smile. "Say, here's another new one. Declaration from a college professor who paid duty on spending seventy-five francs to have his shoes half-soled in Paris."

But Gibbs was not to be outdone.

"That's nothing," said he, "a gink this morning declared a gold tooth.

I didn't know how to cla.s.sify it so I just told him n.o.body'd know if he'd keep his mouth shut. It was a back tooth. He did slip me a cigar, but women who are smugglin' seem to think it ain't honest to give an inspector any kind of tip." Gibbs dived into an inner pocket and brought out a bunch of aigrettes. "The most I can do now is these aigrettes. I nipped 'em off of a lady coming down the gangplank of the Olympic. They ain't bad, Jim."

Duncan rose from his chair and came over to Gibbs' side and took the plume from his hand.

"Can't you guys ever get out of the habit of grafting?" he demanded.

"Queer," he continued, looking at the delicate feathers closely, "how some soft, timid little bit of a woman is willing to wear things like that. Do you know where they come from?"

"From some factory, I s'pose," Gibbs answered with an air of candor.

"No they don't," Duncan told him. "They take 'em from the mother bird just when she's had her young ones; they leave her half dead with the little ones starving. Pretty tough, I call it, on dumb animals," he concluded, with so sentimental a tone as to leave poor Gibbs amazed. He was still more amazed when his fellow inspector put them in his own pocket and went back to his desk.

"Say, Jim," Gibbs expostulated, "what are you doing with them?"

"Why, my wife was asking this morning if I couldn't get her a bunch.

These'll come in just right."

"You're a funny guy to talk about grafting," Gibbs grumbled, "I ain't showing you nothin' more."

"Never you mind me," Duncan commanded. "You keep your own eyes peeled.

Old man Taylor's been raising the deuce around here about reports that some of you fellows still take tips."

Gibbs had heard such rumors too often for them to affect him now. "Oh, it's just the usual August holler," he declared.

Duncan contradicted him, "No, it isn't," he observed. "It's because the Collector and the Secretary of the Treasury have started an investigation about who's getting the rake-off for allowing stuff to slip through. I heard the Secretary was coming over here to-day. You keep your eyes peeled, Harry."

"If times don't change," Gibbs said with an air of gloom, "I'm going into the police department."

He turned about to see if the steps he heard at the door were those of the man he had come to see. He breathed relief when he saw it was only Peter, the doorkeeper.

"Mr. Duncan," said the man, "Miss Ethel Cartwright has just 'phoned that she's on her way and would be here in fifteen minutes."

Gibbs looked from one to the other with his accustomed mild interest. He could see that the news of which he could make little had excited Duncan. It was evidently something important. Directly the doorkeeper had gone Duncan called his chief on the telephone and Gibbs sauntered nearer the 'phone. To hear both sides of the conversation would make it much easier.

"Got a cigar, Jim?" he inquired casually of the other, who was holding the wire.

"Yes," said Duncan, taking one from his pocket.

Gibbs reached a fat hand over for it, "Thanks," he returned simply.

Duncan bit the end off and put it in his own mouth. "And I'm going to smoke it myself," he observed.

Gibbs shook his head reprovingly at this want of generosity and took a cigar from his own pocket. "All right then; I'll have to smoke one of my own."

Just then Duncan began to speak over the wire. "h.e.l.lo. h.e.l.lo, Chief.

Miss Ethel Cartwright just 'phoned she'd be here in fifteen minutes....

Yes, sir.... I'll have her wait."

When he had rung off, Gibbs could see his interest was increasing.

"What do you think of her falling for a b.u.m stall like that?"

"Who?" Gibbs demanded. "Which? What stall?"

"Why, Miss Cartwright!" said Duncan. "Ain't I talking about her?"

"Well, who is she?" the aggrieved Gibbs cried. "Is she a smuggler?"

"No. She's a swell society girl," said Duncan in a superior manner.

"If she ain't a smuggler, what's she here for then?" Gibbs had a gentle pertinacity in sticking to his point.

"The Chief wants to use her in the Denby case, so he had me write her a letter saying we'd received a package from Paris containing dutiable goods, a diamond ring, and would she kindly call this afternoon and straighten out the matter." Duncan now a.s.sumed an air of triumph. "And she fell for a fake like that!"

"I get you," said Gibbs. "But what does he want her for?"

"I told you, the Denby case."

"What's that?" Gibbs entreated.

Duncan lowered his voice. "The biggest smuggling job Taylor ever handled."

"You don't say so," Gibbs returned, duly impressed. "Why, n.o.body's told me anything about it."

"Can you keep your mouth shut?" Duncan inquired mysteriously.

"Sure," Gibbs declared. "I ain't married."

"Then just take a peek out of the door, will you?" Duncan directed.