"Monsieur has nothing to declare?" he asked.
Hillard made a negative sign and opened his cases. With scarce a glance at their contents, and waving aside the coupons, the inspector applied the chalk and turned to Merrihew.
"Monsieur has nothing to declare?" he repeated.
Merrihew shook his head airily. "Niente, niente!" he said in his best Italian. He did not understand what the inspector said; he merely had suspicions.
"Look!" suddenly exclaimed Hillard.
Passing out of the door which led to liberty and to France, their luggage guaranteed by cabalistic chalk marks, were two women. One of them was veiled, the other was not.
"Kitty Killigrew, as I live!" shouted Merrihew, making a dash for the door.
But the inspector blocked the way, beckoned to a gendarme, who came over, and calmly pointed to Merrihew's unopened cases.
"Open!" said the inspector, all his listlessness gone. He had seen people in a hurry before.
"But—" Merrihew struggled to pass.