“Gee!” gasped Willie. “How did you find him so soon?”
“I let him find himself,” said Mr. Easterly. “I went back to the pier and waited for him to call for his goods. I reckoned he would come early, while everything was in confusion on the pier, because he wouldn’t attract half so much attention then. That’s just what he did. He drove up with an old junk wagon and asked for freight for Marrash Roukas. Of course we grabbed him.”
“Of course,” said Willie, with chagrin. “I never thought of that.”
“You will be interested to know,” went on the customs agent, “that there really isn’t any such fellow as Marrash Roukas, after all.”
“There isn’t? Then how did you catch him? I don’t exactly understand.”
The agent laughed. “Marrash Roukas is an assumed name,” he said. “The fellow is really a poor peddler named Selim Sora.”
Willie’s face grew long. “Then we haven’t got anything on Habib Mahaleb, after all,” he cried.
“On the contrary, we have a whole lot on him. At first brother Sora was as ignorant as a bronze statue. Couldn’t speak English, you know. But I soon got him to talking. Then he said it was all a mistake. He had gotten the names mixed when he asked for the goods. I showed him different. Next he tried to bribe me. But finally, when I told him it would mean a long term in prison unless he came through with the truth, he opened up and gave the whole game away. He’s just a tool for Mahaleb. The goods are ordered and paid for by Mahaleb and shipped to Roukas. Sora gets them at the pier and delivers them to Mahaleb. They thought we’d never see through the game. By George! They had reason to think so. Why, this thing has been going on for months. I’m going to tell Mr. King so and tell him that it is entirely due to you that we broke it up.”
Willie’s eyes were shining bright. He hardly trusted himself to reply, but managed to say, “I’m mighty glad it wasn’t a pipe dream.” Then Mr. Easterly went on into Mr. King’s office, and Willie turned to his work.
He was very happy over the outcome of the affair. If it were not for that awful suspicion of dishonesty that hung over his head, Willie would have been the happiest lad in New York. But he could never forget that he was under a cloud. He must go on with the tedious task of clearing away that cloud.