Tom found Mr. Whitford in one of the rooms over the post-office. The custom house official was restlessly pacing the floor.
"Well, Tom!" he exclaimed, shaking hands, "I'm glad to see you. I was afraid something had happened. I was delayed myself, but when I did arrive and found you hadn't been heard from, I didn't know what to think. I couldn't get you on the wireless. The plant here is out of repair."
Tom told of their trip, and the wait they had decided on, and asked:
"What about the new clew; the Fogers?"
"I'm sorry to say it didn't amount to anything. I ran it down, and came to nothing."
"You know Andy has a new airship?"
"Yes. I had men on the trail of it. They say Andy is agent for a firm that manufactures them, but I have my doubts. I haven't given up yet. But say, Tom, you've got to get busy. A big lot of goods was smuggled over last night."
"Where?"
"Well, quite a way from here. I got a telegram about it. Can you get on the job to-night, and do some patrol work along the border? You're only half a mile from it now. Over there is Canada," and he pointed to a town on a hill opposite Logansville.
"Yes, I can get right into action. What place is that?"