"And accomplished nothing!" snapped the Collector.
"How could we, sir? The smuggler you want us to catch does not resort to the usual tricks such people adopt to avoid paying duty on the diamonds and other precious stones, which you say are smuggled into this country. It's because he's such a sly and clever rogue, that we can't locate him. We've resorted to every known method to discover the villain, but can't make any headway."
"Then you admit you are beaten?"
"Yes," was the hesitating reply.
"Hum!" grunted the Collector, in tones of contempt. "A nice lot of government detectives you fellows are to admit such a defeat. However, I've taken the matter into my own hands now."
"Yours?"
"Yes! I've engaged two of the most skillful men in the Secret Service to run down this smuggler. I refer to Old and Young King Brady."
"Indeed!" sneered the inspector, whose pride was wounded. "I'm sure if we can't find that smuggler, they can't."
"They can't, eh?" grimly demanded the Collector. "Well, you'll find out whether they can or not, Andrew Gibson, for they'll be here presently to take your work right out of your hands. Do you hear me?"
With glum looks the inspectors glanced at each other.