It was in the Custom-house, and the Chief was sitting at his desk opening a letter. A boy of perhaps sixteen was standing awkwardly at the door. He was dressed rather roughly, and the Customs Inspector thought it would be a good idea to despatch the boy's business before he read the letter, which he had by this time drawn from the envelope.
"Well?" he repeated; but the boy still hesitated, and glanced uneasily across the room towards a tall lady, who was standing at the window with her back towards him.
"Anything very particular?" the officer went on, with a touch of annoyance.
"I guess I'd like to speak to you alone."
The lady evidently heard him, for without speaking she hurriedly drew her veil down over her face, and noiselessly left the room by a door which he had not noticed before. The boy caught a glimpse of her face as she turned, and gave a little start, he hardly knew why. It was a strange face.
"Now, then, we are quite alone, what have you to say? It's growing late."
"I wanted to speak to you, sir, about something I saw last night out in Puget Sound. I thought you ought to be told about it."
"Yes?"
"A boat, sir, that I think is smuggling opium in from the British Columbia coast."
"What is your name?"