"Thomas Walton. I'm a fisherman."
"What makes you think the boat is smuggling opium?"
"Because she passed down the channel about two o'clock last night and carried no light."
"What sort of a craft?" asked the customs officer, with a peculiar look.
"I should think she was a sailing sloop, sir— I couldn't see noways plain."
"When did you say?"
"Last night."
"Tell me all about it. Where do you live?"
"At my father's ranch on Padilla Bay; he's dead, and I live with my mother and sister there. I fish during the salmon season."
"Were you alone last night?"