“That’s not so easy,” his friend replied, “and you wouldn’t get much out of it.  They are handled, one by one, in Courts of Special Inquiry, each court consisting of three inspectors, an interpreter, and a stenographer, while doctors are always on call.  Special Inquiry, remember, does not mean that there is any reason for excluding the immigrant, merely that his inclusion is not self-evident.  In most cases, answers to a few questions settle all difficulties, and the decisions to exclude are rare.  In doubtful cases, a Court of Special Inquiry takes great pains to investigate the whole condition closely.  When a decision to exclude is reached, the immigrant is given an opportunity to ‘appeal’ to the Commissioner, and these appeals vary from fifteen to seventy a day.  Further appeals may be taken in rare cases.”

“And when all appeals are lost?”

“Then the immigrant must be deported at the expense of the steamship company that brought him.”

“What are the usual grounds for deportation?” asked Hamilton.

“Principally persons of unsound mind, insane, diseased, paupers likely to become a public charge, criminals, anarchists, contract laborers, and those who by physical defect are unable to make a living.”

“It seems to me that you go to a great deal of trouble here,” Hamilton said, “and it must be a big expense keeping and looking after such a mob of people.”

“We don’t pay for their keep,” the official answered; “we make the steamship companies do that.  They are expected to bring desirable, not undesirable immigrants here, and if they bring people whom we cannot accept, they must take the consequences and bear the expense of deporting them.  Our deporting division looks after that, and it is one of the hardest parts of our work.  We’ve a pathetic case there now.”

“You mean that Bridget Mahoney case,” said an inspector, who had just stepped up.  “I beg your pardon for interrupting, but I was just going to ask you to come and see about that case.  There are some new developments.”

“I’ll go right in,” said Hamilton’s guide interestedly.  “I think you might come along, too,” he added, turning to the boy.

“Who is Bridget Mahoney?” Hamilton asked.  “That’s a good old Irish name.”

“And she’s a good old Irish soul,” the other answered.  “She landed here about three weeks ago, fully expecting her son to meet her, but during the five days when she was in temporary detention he failed to show up.”

“But why didn’t you telegraph to the son?” asked Hamilton, who was beginning to feel as though he knew all the ropes.

“We couldn’t find his right address.”

“Was he a traveling man?”

“It wasn’t that.  The woman said she knew he lived in a town called Johnson, or Johnston, or something like that, but she didn’t know in what State.  Now there are nearly forty post-offices with that name in America, and we sent telegrams or letters to every one of these.  But we never received a definite reply.”