"We reach the bay; the customs officers come on board. We give them
all the declarations. The fancy folks are standing round their
baggage waiting for the customs man to get through. Suddenly one of
them cries:
"'Oh, my sealskin coat is gone!'
"I step up and politely say:
"'But you must be mistaken. Madame said nothing about a sealskin coat
on her declaration so she could not have had one.'
"Ha! Ha! The customs man hears this so she can say nothing. Finish!
Ah yes, your old friend baggage man knows a thing or two."
Needless to say this was all grist to my mill. It was just what I
wanted. When the ship was a day from New York, I said to the rascal:
"My friend, I want to look at the luggage of Carl Schmidt for ten
minutes. It is check number 31694 and is a _kiste_."
The baggage man was very sorry but that could not be done. If it were
found out he would lose his position.
"Either I get at that kiste," I said, "or up you go."
The baggage man attempted to bluster.
"No heroics now, my friend," I smiled. "I know enough about you and
your little ingenious piece of graft to tell a pretty story at the
North German Lloyd offices in New York. Now do I get a look at Herr
Schmidt's kiste?"
With a growl the baggage man yielded, whereupon I gave him $75 to bind
the bargain and handed the stewardess $25 so as to assure her support.
Still, it would not do to meddle with the chest until the liner was
steaming into port, for were Schmidt to discover that his luggage had
been tampered with and the dispatch abstracted, since by the process
of elimination I concluded it must be there, the alarm would go
throughout the ship and every passenger would be searched.
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