"Is Mr. MacPherson, the purser of the _Atlantic_, there?" he inquired. Then: "Hello! Mr. MacPherson? This is Gregory, Customs Division. You remember me, don't you? Worked on the Maitland diamond case with you two years ago.... Wonder if you could tell me something I want to know--is Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge booked to go back with you to-morrow?... She is? What's the number of her stateroom? And--er--what was the number of the room she had coming over?... I thank you." If the motorists whom Gregory had startled on the Drive had seen him emerge from the phone booth they would have marveled at the look of keen satisfaction and relief that was spread over his face. The cat that swallowed the canary was tired of life, compared with Joe at that moment. Next morning the Customs operatives were rather surprised to see Gregory stroll down to the _Atlantic_ dock about ten o'clock. "Thought you were somewhere uptown on the chief's pet case," said one of them. "So I was," answered Joe. "But that's practically cleaned up." With that he went aboard, and no one saw him until just before the "All-ashore" call. Then he took up his place beside the gangplank, with three other men placed near by in case of accident. "Follow my lead," he directed. "I'll speak to the girl. Two of you stick here to make certain that she doesn't get away, and you, Bill, beat it on board then and tell the captain that the boat's not to clear until we give the word. We won't delay him more than ten minutes at the outside." When Alyce came down the gangplank a few minutes later, in the midst of people who had been saying good-by to friends and relatives, she spotted Joe waiting for her, and started to move hurriedly away. Gregory caught up with her before she had gone a dozen feet. "Good morning, Alyce," he said. "Thought I'd come down to meet you. What've you got in the bag there?" indicating her maid's handbag. "Not--not a thing," said the girl, flushing. Just then the matron joined the party, as previously arranged, and Joe's tone took on its official hardness. "Hurry up and search her! We don't want to keep the boat any longer than we have to." Less than a minute later the matron thrust her head out of the door long enough to report: "We found 'em--the pearls. She had 'em in the front of her dress." Gregory was up the gangplank in a single bound. A moment later he was knocking at the door of Mrs. Dodge's stateroom. The instant the knob turned he was inside, informing Phyllis that she was under arrest on a charge of bringing jewels into the United States without the formality of paying duty. Of course, the lady protested--but the _Atlantic_ sailed, less than ten minutes behind schedule time, without her. Promptly at twelve the phone on the desk of the chief of the Customs Division in Washington buzzed noisily.