“What stopped it?” asked Willie.
“We’ll soon find out,” said Mr. Easterly.
With his knife he enlarged the opening. Again the wheat poured forth, but in a second the flow became a trickle. Then something white began to project through the opening.
“It looks as though we had found something,” remarked Mr. Easterly.
He thrust his hand into the bag and drew forth a great roll of something white. Carefully he undid the wrappings, then opened what was inside.
“Lace handkerchiefs!” cried Willie.
The agent ran his fingers through the roll with practiced skill. “Fifty dozens of them,” he said after a moment. “Again I congratulate you, Willie.”
“What are you going to do about Marrash Roukas?” demanded Willie, his acute mind leaping ahead.
“We’ll have a little talk with him,” said the agent, with a smile, “and maybe Uncle Sam will get in a little cash as a result. But before we let him know we are on to his game, it might be well to take a look at his place. Come on. We’ll slip down to the Armenian quarter and look him up.”
After giving directions about the packages they had opened, they hustled off to the Armenian district. “Did you notice where his place was, when you were looking about here?” inquired Mr. Easterly.