"Customs department!" gasped Tom. "You want to ask me some questions?"
"That's it," went on the man, in a business-like voice.
"What about?"
"Smuggling by airship from Canada!"
"What!" cried Tom. "Do you mean to say you suspect me of being implicated in--"
"Now go easy," advised the man calmly. "I didn't say anything, except that I wanted to question you. If you'd like me to do it out here, why I can. But as someone might hear us--"
"Come inside," said Tom quietly, though his heart was beating in a tumult. "You may go, Koku, but stay within call," he added significantly. "Come on, Ned," and he motioned to his chum who was approaching. "This man is a custom officer and not a spy or a detective, as we thought."
"Oh, yes, I am a sort of a detective," corrected Mr. Whitford. "And I'm a spy, too, in a way, for I've been spying on you, and some other parties in town. But you may be able to explain everything," he added, as he took a seat in the library between Ned and Tom. "I only know I was sent here to do certain work, and I'm going to do it. I wanted to make some observations before you saw me, but I wasn't quite quick enough."
"Would you mind telling me what you want to know?" asked Tom, a bit impatiently. "You mentioned smuggling, and--"
"Smuggling!" interrupted Ned.