"Sure," he said. "Just as we are about to reach port we ask everybody
on board to prepare for us a statement of the things they have to
declare. We give it to the customs officers when they come on board
in the Lower Bay of New York. Well, some of those fancy rich people
always want to do a bit of smuggling and don't declare lots of things.
I have known that for years. What do I do?" Becoming boastful, he
patted the stewardess on the shoulder, at which she glanced at me a
little frightened. She seemed to realize that her future spouse was
talking too much. She tried to remonstrate with him but he was too
full of his theme and good spirits.
"Nonsense, my girl; I will tell my friend. Aren't we all drinking
together?"
Turning once more to me he said:
"What do I do, Doctor. Well, first I look over the lot of
declarations. Then I pick out two or three that look pretty good. I
make a list of the things they claim to have in their trunks. Then I
get at their baggage and give it a smash, accidentally of
course--things are apt to be broken in the hold you know, the boat
pitching, carelessness by the porters and all that. So the luggage of
my fancy folks is broken open. We look it over. If my lady has held
out anything from her declaration, out of the trunk that comes and
into my private quarters."
I winked knowingly as if to praise his cleverness.
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