haven't yet."

"Your customs inspectors ought to be able to help you," observed the
captain, hiding a smile. "Nothing but motes can slip through their
fingers."

"Sometimes they're tripped up," replied Haggerty. "A case like this is
due t' slip through. I'll take a look."

Thomas heard no more. A detective. Unobserved, he went down to his
stuffy cabin, took off the chamois bag and locked it in his trunk. So
long as it remained on board, it was in British territory.

The following day he went into the great city of man-made cliffs. He
walked miles and miles. Naturally he sought the haberdashers along
Broadway. No employment was offered him: for the reason that he failed
to state his accomplishments. But he was in nowise discouraged. He
would go back to Liverpool. The ship would sail with full cabin
strength, and this trip there would be tips, three sovereigns at least,
and maybe more, if his charges happened to be generous.

He tied the chamois bag round his neck again, and turned in. He was
terribly tired and footsore. He slept fitfully. At half after nine he
sat up, fully awake. His cabin-mate (whom he rather disliked) was not
in his bunk. Indeed, the bunk had not been touched. Suddenly Thomas'
hand flew to his breast. The chamois bag was gone!

CHAPTER IV

Iambic and hexameter, farewell! In that moment the poet died in
Thomas; I mean, the poet who had to dig his expressions of life out of
ink-pots. Things boil up quickly and unexpectedly in the soul;
century-old impulses, undreamed of by the inheritor; and when these
bubble and spill over the kettle's lip, watch out. There is an island
in the South Seas where small mud-geysers burst forth under the
pressure of the foot. Fate had stepped on Thomas.

As he sprang out of his bunk he was a reversion: the outlaw in
Lincoln-green, the Yeoman of the Guard, the bandannaed smuggler of the
southeast coast. Quickly he got into his uniform. He went about this
affair the right way, with foresight and prudence; for he realized that
he must act instantly. He sought the purser, who was cordial.

"I'm not feeling well," began Thomas; "and the doctor is ashore.
Where's there an apothecary's shop?"

"Two blocks straight out from the pier entrance. You'll see red and
blue lights in the windows. Tummy?"

"I'm subject to dizzy spells. Where's Jameson?" Jameson was the surly
cabin-mate.

"Quit. Gone over to the Cunard. Fool. Like a littl