"Take off that pilot coat," continued the revenue man. "Why should I do that?" asked Tommy. "If you don't do it, I'll have to help you." Reluctantly Tommy obeyed. "Now remove the other." He did so. The officer laid it on the table, and the bags of tobacco were revealed to view. Passing his hands up and down the boy's vest and pants, the officer smiled serenely. "Decided case of smuggling!" he exclaimed, triumphantly. "I'll have to arrest you. Put on your coats, and, when we land, come with me before a magistrate." "Oh, please, sir, don't do that. Take the stuff and let me go," pleaded Tommy. "Can't do it." "I--I'm very sorry." "I'm not. This is a good haul. We have suspected that there has been a great deal of smuggled tobacco taken off these ocean steamers, and I'm pleased to think we've spotted some one at last." Tommy began to cry. "Who is in this with you?" asked the officer. "N--no one, sir," replied Tommy. "Are you sure?" "Qui-quite sure, sir." "All right. Tell a lie and stick to it. We've got you, and that's enough for me," answered the officer. Tommy continued crying, and rubbed the knuckles of his hands in his eyes, but nobody took any notice of him. All were busily engaged in preparing to leave the vessel, and when she presently reached her dock, a grand rush was made for the gangway. "Won't you let me go?" asked Tommy, thinking the officer might relent. "Not likely," was the reply. "What will they do with me?" "Send you up for life, or perhaps hang you." At this appalling prospect, which was a jest of the officer, Tommy's tears redoubled. Mr. and Mrs. Stocker bestowed no attention upon the unhappy boy, and even Wild Charley, who caught sight of him in charge of the officer, hurried on as quick as he could. "Charley! Charley!" exclaimed Tommy. But Charley ran as if his former acquaintance were stricken with the plague. "Who's that?" asked the custom house officer. "Only a friend of mine, sir," rejoined Tommy. Soon afterward Tommy was taken on shore, and brought up before the nearest magistrate. The case was stated, and the smuggled tobacco produced. "Clear case," said the judge. "Had he any accomplices?" "He says not, your worship," replied the officer. "Well, as he is so young, we will fine him twenty pounds, or three months in jail." "I haven't a cent, sir," exclaimed Tommy, "nor a friend on this side." "Sorry for you. Next case!" replied the judge. Tommy was taken below to the cells of the jailer, to await the coming of the van which was to take him to prison. Pushed rudely in, and locked up, he felt very miserable; but he could do nothing. He was alone and friendless, as well as penniless, while even Wild Charley, who might have been expected to help him, kept away. Abandoned on all sides, Tommy gave himself up to despair, and sat on the hard bench in his cell in a state of sullen despondency. CHAPTER X. LOST IN LONDON.