Last week a French family, consisting of a mother and two sons, arrived.
When asked if they had any dutiable articles, they declared that they had brought nothing with them that ought to pay duty. As they had twenty pieces of baggage with them, the officials refused to believe that they had nothing on which duty should be levied.
The two sons were very elegant and extremely polite French gentlemen. They courteously handed their keys to the inspectors, and turned around to converse with some equally elegant young ladies who had come to meet their party.
Their pleasant conversation was roughly interrupted by the inspectors.
Only six of the twenty pieces of baggage were trunks; the rest proved to be packing-cases.
"They've got to be opened," said the heated inspectors.
"Certainly. You have our permission to open them," said the polite young Frenchmen.
"What!" roared the inspectors, "Open them! We are not carpenters! Open them yourselves!"
There and then these well-dressed, well-mannered young men had to set to work to pry open their own packing-cases.
By this time their suavity had so exasperated the officials, who are not accustomed to politeness and pleasant words from incoming passengers, that they decided that the young Frenchmen must have a reason for their good manners, and be in fact dangerous smugglers.