Simonski produced his keys and dropped to one knee, to open the trunk. The cabin boy reached out his hand, to relieve Simonski of his cane, but the latter laid it on the pier beside his foot. He unlocked the trunk, picked up his cane, and rose to his feet. “Go to it,” he said. “The quicker the better. I’m in a hurry.” The inspector opened the trunk wide. He placed the customs declaration where he could consult it, and began a systematic examination of the contents of the trunk. Not an article in the trunk went unexamined. As soon as he had examined an object, he piled it on its predecessors on the pier floor. The owner frowned. “You might think I was trying to smuggle something in, the way you go through that trunk,” he said testily. “Perhaps I do think so,” said the inspector. “Well, satisfy yourself,” said Simonski, in a sarcastic tone. The inspector made no reply, but continued his search. He questioned Simonski from time to time as to when and where he got this or that article. He continued the search until the trunk was entirely empty. Everything he had taken out of the trunk he had examined in the closest possible manner, feeling every inch of a garment, opening pockets, unfolding handkerchiefs, and leaving unsearched absolutely nothing that could contain even so small a thing as a diamond. All the while Willie moved about in the crowd, that was now dense, but always with his eyes on Simonski and the inspector. Now the latter began an examination of the trunk itself. He felt every inch of its smooth surface. He hunted for places where the lining might have been ripped. He thumped the boards to see if they were solid. He even whipped out a little rule and measured the trunk inside and out to make sure it had no false bottom or sides. But the trunk appeared to be flawless. All the while Simonski stood beside the inspector, as cool as ice. When the search was over, the inspector motioned to him to repack his trunk. Simonski laid his cane on the pier, close beside the trunk, and put the things back in place. Then he locked the trunk, picked up his cane, and coolly hooked it over his arm again. “Let’s see that bag,” demanded the inspector. “Not satisfied yet?” said Simonski in apparent surprise. “All right. Hand it to him, boy.” The cabin boy passed over the bag. The inspector searched it with the same thoroughness he had used in examining the trunk. Nothing came of the examination. “Lot of good it did you, didn’t it?” remarked the traveler, with sarcasm. Then, turning to the cabin boy, he said, “We’ll be moving now. Get a taxi for me.” “Not so fast,” said the inspector. “I’m not done yet. We have reason to think you have something dutiable with you. If it isn’t in your baggage, it may be on your person. We’ll have to search you.” “Very well. Help yourself. Here are my pockets.” And he held up his arms so the inspector could delve into his coat.