Chapter XI: Willie Makes a Discovery

But though Willie made no headway in his investigation, he was making splendid progress with his other work. He was on his mettle now. He had but one thought, night and day. That was to prove his worth. That meant, first, to prove his innocence; and second, to prove his ability. Time might or might not show who really took the papers. Willie, seemingly, could do nothing to clarify the situation. But to attain his other ends, he could do everything.

He began to study his various tasks, to see if there were better or more efficient ways of doing them. He tried harder and harder to be efficient at the gate, to keep things running smoothly, to do all he could to help forward the business of the office. Very quickly he learned where all the various supplies were. He soon knew the ins and outs of the entire place. He knew all the offices in the huge building, and could tell offhand who were in charge of them.

And while he thus became more useful, he was absorbing information that was to make him more useful still. Day after day, the operatives or special agents who worked with the customs inspectors to prevent smuggling, came in and discussed their cases. Willie often heard much that they said. So he came to know the names of persons who had tried to smuggle in goods, the methods they resorted to, and the artifices employed to trap them.

It was extremely fortunate for Willie that there was no other boy in the office. It has been said that one boy is worth half as much as a man, while two boys are worth nothing at all. It might have been somewhat that way with Willie, had he had a companion anywhere near his own age, for he was full of fun and mischief. But every one else in the office had outgrown his puppy days. Even so, Willie might have indulged in some harmless fun at intervals, had not the Chief’s papers been stolen. After Willie once found that the finger of suspicion pointed to him, he lost much of his natural buoyancy of spirit. He was too sick at heart even to want to play. So he settled down sedately, like an elderly gentleman, to his work. Thus he gained fast in knowledge and ability, and without realizing it, turned a disadvantage into an advantage.

It was impossible, however, to repress for very long a nature so buoyant and cheerful as Willie’s. Day followed day. And though the days did not lift the burden of suspicion from Willie, neither did they add to it. Slowly but surely Willie returned to his normal, cheerful frame of mind.

Once this change had come, Willie’s natural curiosity about life asserted itself. In that respect, Willie was like a fox-terrier, now nosing this thing and now that, and always on the alert. Truly he was in a favorable place for one curious about life. All the world was spread out before him, in tabloid form. He had only to search, and he would find near at hand peoples from the farthest corners of the earth. He had only to look, and he would see how men lived in far countries, what they ate and drank and how they worked and what they did to amuse themselves. And all these things Willie was keen enough to learn. So Willie’s return to better spirits fired his curiosity afresh; and his curiosity in turn renewed his spirits. Before he knew it, Willie was very much like the old Willie Roy had known back home—a likable, dependable, whole-souled, jolly lad, but with an unusual amount of sense and understanding.

Once his desire to see was whetted again, Willie turned eagerly to the pleasant task of getting better acquainted with New York. To be sure, he already knew the town’s geography by heart. He could tell an inquirer in an instant where Albany Street or Minetta Lane or Coenties Slip was located. He had learned the names and locations on a map during the search for the secret wireless. Yet mostly these places were still but names to him. When he said Mulberry Street, he did not think of tall brick tenements strung from fire-escape to fire-escape with red peppers, or of gaudy street festivals, or of the teeming population of swarthy Italians that lived in these brick tenements. And when he spoke of Allen Street, he had no vision of a dark, reeking thoroughfare, with the elevated railway trains thundering overhead and shutting out the sunlight, the garbage cans overflowing on the sidewalks, the glittering shops of the brass merchants, and the chattering swarms of Hebrews that filled the street. Now, Willie felt, the time had come for him to know the places themselves, the topography, the life that was lived in these places.

But he was sadly restricted in his efforts. Only after office hours had he opportunity to do any sightseeing. Being at the very end of Manhattan Island, it was necessary for him to ride if he meant to go any distance. Car fares cost money. And the small salary Willie was getting hardly more than sufficed to provide him with food and shelter. He had to be very careful of his pennies. In some respects that was fortunate for Willie. It encouraged, and almost necessitated, his seeing what lay near at hand and could be seen quickly and at no cost. So it came about that Willie began to make a systematic survey of what is probably the most interesting part of old New York—the region from Canal Street to the Battery.

Naturally Willie wanted to see more of the Armenians and the quarter in which they lived. He had never forgotten the occurrences that marked his first visit, nor had he ceased to wonder at those occurrences. And as he boarded right around the corner from the district, he was much to be seen in this odd little nook of lower Manhattan. He had already found the food toothsome and cheap; and more and more he ate in these Oriental cafes. Quite as naturally he began to visit the shops; but as he had little to spend, the few purchases he did make were of the most inexpensive sorts.

He never tired, however, of looking at the curious goods offered for sale. There were dried figs, packed in the most curious, bowl-shaped baskets woven of straw or grass; and dried dates, put up in various odd packages; and curious Turkish candies and pastries, unlike anything Willie had ever seen; and Turkish tobaccos, and pistachio nuts, which Willie had never seen before, and which he promptly sampled. And Willie was amused at one ferret-eyed shopman’s embarrassment, when, in pouring the nuts out of a can for Willie, he found a little white handkerchief in the can, that doubtless one of the man’s numerous babies had hidden away there. For the can was kept down low, behind the counter. And the trinkets were so interesting—the rings and bracelets and earrings and necklaces of semi-precious stones and even of cheap metals like copper and brass.

But what took Willie’s eye especially was the lace work. Again and again he had seen the Armenian women on the sidewalks and doorsteps plying their needles and making these beautiful pieces. There were wonderful shawls edged with lace, and lace handkerchiefs, and lace scarfs, and marvelous table-cloths, and no end of laces for edging waists and skirts and pillows, and other beautiful things. Most of all Willie looked with envious eyes on the lace collars. He wanted one for his mother. Often she wore simple lace collars, and Willie thought she never was so beautiful as when she wore a dark dress with a lace collar to frame her face. He meant to buy one of these collars just as soon as he could save the necessary amount of money. It really required no great sum, Willie found, to buy many of these articles. But he did not yet have even that little.

Willie would have paid small heed to the relative price of these Oriental offerings, and indeed he would hardly have known the prices were very different from prices elsewhere for similar goods, had it not been for an incident that occurred one day. Mr. King, in hunting through one of his pockets, came upon a neglected and forgotten letter. It was an announcement of the marriage of an old friend.

“By George!” said the Special Agent, gazing ruefully at the recovered announcement. “I forgot about that. I meant to send Frank some little token. I mustn’t wait another minute.” Then he looked at his engagement calendar, and sank back in his seat. He could not possibly get away that day to buy anything.

“Willie,” called the Treasury Agent through the open door, “I wish you’d do an errand for me.”

“I’ll be glad to,” said Willie, stepping to Mr. King’s desk.

“Here’s a ten-dollar bill, Willie. Jump into the subway and run up to Wanamaker’s. Get me a dozen nice napkins. If you can get some with embroidered edges for that price, I’d like them. If you can’t, get some plain ones. But they must be of good quality and a pretty pattern.”

“I’d be glad to do the errand, Mr. King, but are you sure you would like what I select?”

“Oh! You can pick a pretty pattern as well as anybody, and besides, if I don’t like your choice, I can exchange the napkins for others.”

Willie hurried away and reached the store in no time. He had no difficulty in finding plenty of beautiful napkins, but the prices were appalling. The embroidered ones were simply out of his reach. To get even the plain ones of good size and best quality required most of his ten-dollar bill. He got the best bargain he could and hurried back to his employer.

“There were plenty of fine embroidered napkins, Mr. King,” said Willie, “but ten dollars wouldn’t touch them. These are very fine napkins, but they are plain. Here’s your change.”

Mr. King unwrapped the napkins, looked at the purchase slip, and then counted the change Willie had given him. He found it correct.

“Here’s fifty cents for you, Willie,” he said, handing out a half dollar. “And I’m obliged to you.”

Willie laid the half dollar on the desk. “I’ve been paid once for my time,” he said. “I cannot take the money. But I thank you.”

Mr. King gave Willie a sharp look. He saw nothing but sincerity in the lad’s face. “Very well,” he remarked. “You are at least entitled to car fare. All our agents have their expenses paid when on duty.” And he handed a dime to Willie.

“Thank you,” said Willie, as he pocketed the money.

“Now we’ll see what sort of taste you have,” said Mr. King, as he spread the linen out on his desk.

“Well,” he said, “that suits me first-rate and it would suit Frank. But whether it will suit Frank’s wife or not I don’t know. She might not like them because they are not fancy.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get the embroidered ones,” said Willie. “They were almost double the price of the plain napkins. And the price of the plain ones was a fright.”

“Yes, I knew they would come high. These are imported goods, and the duty is something like eighty or ninety per cent. _ad valorem._”

“What does that mean?” inquired Willie.

“Simply this. The import duty is eighty or ninety per cent. of the original value of the goods. If an article is worth ten dollars, say, and the import duty is eighty per cent., the importer would have to pay a tax of eighty per cent. of ten dollars, or eight dollars, to get the stuff in. So he would have to have eighteen dollars merely to cover the purchase price and the revenue tax.”

“Whew!” whistled Willie. “Are import duties as high as that?”

“No, not all of them. Some are very low. It just depends. Articles of necessity, like food, pay very little duty and often none at all. But articles of luxury, like silks, laces, linens, and so on, pay very heavy duties. It takes a pile of money to run this government. If everybody was taxed directly, and had to pay in dollars and cents, right out of his pocket, there would be a tremendous howl. So Uncle Sam gets part of his money through indirect taxes, like import duties. That places the tax burden where it can best be borne, too, for poor people cannot afford many luxuries. The well-to-do pay a great deal, merely for the privilege of wearing fine clothes and having beautiful objects in their houses.”

Just then the arrival of a caller at the gate cut short the conversation, and Willie thought no more about the matter until the next time he saw an Armenian woman making lace on a doorstep.

“I understand now why these Armenian things are so cheap,” thought Willie. “The women make them here and there is no duty to pay on them.”

The woman who was knitting saw Willie looking at her laces. “Only two dolla,” she said, holding out a beautiful piece of lace for Willie’s inspection. “Cheap.”

“It sure is,” said Willie. An idea came to him. “How long did it take you to make this?” he inquired.

“Maybe one week,” said the woman. “Don’t know exactly.”

Willie handed the woman back her laces, thanked her, and went on. Presently he stopped dead in his tracks. There were only a few of these Oriental women, relatively, and yet their shops contained large quantities of needlework. It was as plain as could be that these few women never made all that lace.

“Then where did it come from?” asked Willie. He pondered the matter a moment. “By George!” he said to himself, “that stuff’s smuggled. I’ll bet a dollar to a doughnut it is. That’s why they can sell it so cheap.” He paused to consider the matter further. Another idea came into his mind. “It’s as plain as daylight,” he said to himself after a moment. “It explains everything. That’s why those women watched Roy and Mr. Robbins so closely the day we first came here for luncheon. They saw they had on uniforms something like those of the customs inspectors at the piers. They thought they might be looking for smuggled goods. That’s why those women all scooted into the shops as we came along. It was to sound a warning. And that’s why the men in that restaurant sized us up so closely. Likely they are all in the smuggling game. They thought we were spying on them. No wonder they watched us.”

Once more Willie pondered the matter. “I don’t suppose it is any news to the boss that there is smuggling going on here,” he thought, “but I don’t believe the office is doing a thing about it. They’re too busy with the booze situation. I’ll just keep my eyes open and my wits about me and maybe I can find out something the boss will like to know. This may be the very chance I am looking for.”