"Oh, quite artistic; 'a study in black and white,' as the artists say."
The ladies laughed together, full of glee at their coming triumph over the Custom House officers. The German wore the fatuous grin affected by people who listen to a language which they do not understand.
At last the train slowed into Blandain Station, the frontier! Out jumped the Misses Wylie with their hand baggage. They calmly awaited the approach of the officers. Out lumbered the German with his fatuous smile. He sauntered up to one of the chiefs of the douane.
"Rien à déclarer," said both ladies.
"Eau de Cologne, dentelles, tabac, spiritueux—" the officer ran off.
"Rien, rien," said the Misses Wylie.
The man said nothing more, and the ladies, expecting the cry of "En voiture, s'il vous plaît!" felt extremely happy.
But at that moment the official to whom the German had been speaking came up to them and said, in very fair English, "The ladies are fond of lace?"
Their hearts sank within them. "Rather," they conceded.
"And to carry it on the bonnet is a convenient manner of avoiding the duty."