A moment later the group expectantly gathered in the hall heard something within that resembled an itinerant cyclone, then the door blew open and Griffin shot out and raced for the stairs, while behind him--like an angry tom-cat--came Stover, in time to give to the panicky champion just that extra impetus that allowed him, as Dennis expressed it, to establish a new record--flying start--for the twenty-six steps. After this little explanation Griffin showed a marked disinclination for the company of Bellefont, and became, indeed, quite a useful member of the community, though he always retained such acute memories that an angry tone from Stover would cause him to fidget and calculate the distance to the door. Griffin subdued, the Millionaire Baby still remained. The problem was a knotty one, for as Bellefont was still of sub-stature the means of correction were limited. "What worries your Majesty?" said Dennis de Brian de Boru, perceiving Stover in stern meditation. "Is it that beautiful specimen of flunky-raised squab entitled the Millionaire Baby?" "It is," said Dink. Between him and Dennis peace had long since been concluded. "He is a very precious hothouse flower," said Dennis sarcastically. "He is the most useless, pestiferous, conceited little squirt I ever saw," said Dink. "I love him not." "But I'll get that flunky smell out of him yet!" "The pity is he has such fat, juicy boxes from home." "He has--how often?" "Every two weeks." "It oughtn't to be allowed." "What are you going to do? You can't take 'em by force." "No--that wouldn't do." "Still," said Dennis regretfully, "he's so young it is just ruining his little digestion." They sat a moment deliberating. Finally Dink spoke rapturously: "I have it. We'll organize the Kennedy Customs House." "Aha!" "Everything imported must pass the Customs House." "Pass?" "Certainly; everything must be legal." "What am I to be?" "Appraiser." "I'd rather be first taster." "Same thing." "You said pass," said Dennis obstinately. "I don't like that word." "Purely technical sense." "But there will be duties imposed?" "Certainly." "Aha!" said Dennis brightening. "Very high duties?" "The maximum duty on luxuries," said Dink. "We're all good Republicans, aren't we?" "I am, if I can write the tariff schedule," said Dennis, who, as may be seen, was orthodox. When, on the following week, young Bellefont received his regular installment of high-priced indigestibles he was amazed to see the Gutter Pup and Lovely Mead appear with solemn demeanor. "Hello," said the Millionaire Baby, placing himself in front of the half-open box. "See these badges," said Lovely Mead, pointing to their caps, around which were displayed white bandages inscribed "inspector." "Sure." "We're in the Customs House." "Well, what?" "And we have received information that you are systematically smuggling goods into this territory." The Millionaire Baby looked as though a ghost had arisen.