“Are you sure of that?” she demanded.
“Why, yes,” he returned. “It doesn’t seem quite fair, does it?” he demanded, looking at her keenly. “It doesn’t seem playing the game for the first cabin on the Mauretania to get in free while the second cabin gets caught.”
“Have you ever smuggled?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said, “but if I have, it has not been a habit with me as with some rich people I know, who could so easily afford to pay.”
“Suppose I do smuggle and get caught, I can pay without any further trouble, can’t I?” she queried.
“You’re just as likely to be detained,” he told her. “To all intents and purposes, it’s like being under arrest.”
“Oh, Lord!” she cried. “And I shouldn’t be able to get back to Michael?”
“Probably not,” he said. “You see, Mrs. Harrington, you’d be a splendid tribute to the impartiality of the service. The publicity the Customs people would get from your case would be worth a lot to them. Indirectly, you’d possibly promote hard-working inspectors.”
“But I don’t want to be a case,” she exclaimed, “I’m not anxious to be put in a cell and promote hard-working inspectors. And think of poor Michael all ready with a crimson newly-devised drink pacing the floor while I’m undergoing the third degree! Mr. Denby, I still think the laws are absurd, but I shall declare everything I’ve got. I wonder if they would let Michael hand me his crimson drink through the bars.”
Just then Monty made for them and dropped into his deck-chair.