A look of suspicion dawned on the man's face. "What for?"
"A little formality, my jolly old hero," said Bones.
"Why didn't you say so before?" growled the man, and had his two trunks landed. "I suppose you know you're exceeding your duty?"
"I didn't know—thanks for tellin' me," said Bones. "The fact is, sir an' fellow-man, I'm the Custom House officer."
The man opened his bags, and Bones explored. He found three bottles of whisky, and these he extracted.
"What's the idea?" asked Mr. Corklan.
Bones answered him by breaking the bottles on a near-by stone.
"Here, what the dickens——"
"Wine is a mocker," said Bones, "strong drink is ragin'. This is what is termed in the land of Hope an' Glory a prohibition State, an' I'm entitled to fine you five hundred of the brightest an' best for attemptin' to smuggle intoxicants into our innocent country."
Bones expected an outburst; instead, his speech evoked no more than a snigger.