If I deliver the
parcels with the seals broken I shall get the glacial glare from the
damsels concerned, and when I get back scorpions and poisoned bill-hooks
will be too good for poor Percival."
"Phew!" whistled Sparkes. "They go through your baggage with a fine
toothcomb nowadays. Couldn't you drop over the side with your bag and drift
ashore on a deserted beach, disguised as a floating mine?"
"I've cut impersonations of hardware out of my _repertoire_ since the day I
failed to get past an R.T.O. disguised as a brass-hat," said Percival
sadly. "I suppose I must fall back on direct action. I've a feeling that
England expects every man this day to pay his duty."
On the quay there was the usual mad charge of porters. Percival indicated
his bag to one of them with a distracted air, and followed him to the
Customs House guiltily. The porter dumped the bag before an official, who
had a piece of chalk hopefully poised between his fingers.
"'Nything t' 'clare?" he asked, preparing to affix the sign which spelt
freedom.
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