say are smuggled into this country. It's
because he's such a sly and clever rogue, that we can't locate him. We've
resorted to every known method to discover the villain, but can't make any
headway."

"Then you admit you are beaten?"

"Yes," was the hesitating reply.

"Hum!" grunted the Collector, in tones of contempt. "A nice lot of
government detectives you fellows are to admit such a defeat. However, I've
taken the matter into my own hands now."

"Yours?"

"Yes! I've engaged two of the most skillful men in the Secret Service to
run down this smuggler. I refer to Old and Young King Brady."

"Indeed!" sneered the inspector, whose pride was wounded. "I'm sure if we
can't find that smuggler, they can't."

"They can't, eh?" grimly demanded the Collector. "Well, you'll find out
whether they can or not, Andrew Gibson, for they'll be here presently to
take your work right out of your hands. Do you hear me?"

With glum looks the inspectors glanced at each other.

It was a bitter pill for them to swallow, to have an outsider come in to do
the work they found themselves unable to cope with.

Finally Gibson affected a mocking laugh, and said, derisively:

"What can a Secret Service man do in a Custom House case, if we men,
educated for it, can't finish a job we find too hard for us?"

"They'll find the smuggler I'm after," replied the Collector, banging his
fist on the desk to emphasize his remark. "I've got every faith in that
remarkable man and boy. They are the most skillful detectives in the
profession. There's nothing they can't do in their own line, and you'll
find it out soon."

"On police and criminal cases--"

"On _any_ work!" roared the Collector, excitedly.

"They must be marvels, indeed!" sneered Gibson.

"So they are, sir--so they are."

"I'd like to see these wonders!"

Just then two men in uniform standing apart from the rest, advanced.

They wore the costume of boarding officers, the dark-blue uniforms being
garnished with brass buttons and on their heads were caps with bands across
the front bearing the word in gilt letters, "Inspector."

One of these men was tall and muscular, with a bushy black beard, deep gray
eyes and a heavy mass of dark-brown hair.

His companion looked like a mere boy, with a handsome face, a pair of keen
eyes and a dashing, aggressive air that showed he was of a bold, intrepid
character. He walked right up to the inspector.

"So you want to see the Bradys, do