The Secretary did so.

“With both hands behind your back and your eyes fixed on the Declaration of Independence sign this sworn statement,” said the man.

The Secretary did so.

“Now that you have sworn I will go through your trunks to see if you are a liar!” said the man.

“Surely, you should receive one of my best kicks,” said the Secretary.

“Formality first, fun later,” said the man, upsetting the largest trunk.

“Aha! what is this?”

“It is a pair of open-work socks,” said the Secretary.

“Opened in Europe—­yes?  Bad business! bad business!  I begin to suspect you.  What is this?”

“That is a pipe which I bought in Baden-Baden,” said the Secretary.  “I am taking it to my cousin in Springfield, Mass., for a souvenir.”

“I will help your cousin to stop smoking,” said the man, putting the pipe in his pocket.  “Aha! what is this?”

The Secretary blushed his face.

“What is this?”

“That is my pair of pajamas!” said the Secretary.

“Pajamas?”

“Put them back, please?” said the Secretary.  “A man’s pajamas are not for the vulgar gaze of the world!”

“Pajamas!” said the man.

“My pajamas!” said the Secretary.

“They look like a Chinaman’s Sunday trousers—­yes?”

The Secretary looked into the pitiless faces of the multitude which was gazing into his trunk, but they handed him nothing save small bunches of laughter.

“Come!” said the man, “where is the Chink that goes with this wearing apparel?  Did you hear over the wireless system about the labor strikes and try to smuggle in some cheap labor?”

“I assure you that I wear those pajamas myself!” said the Secretary, interrupting a sob in his throat.

“You wear these pajamas?  When?  Why?  Where?”

“In the secrecy of my boudoir,” said the Secretary.

“Aha!” said the man, “so you have some boudoir, too!  Bad business! bad business!  I have never heard of a Boudoir Trust, therefore, we do not make such a thing in this country.  My suspicions are getting louder.  What is in this bottle?”

“That is my cough medicine,” said the Secretary, giving a sample of the cough.

“It may be wine or cream de mint because your voice sounds nervous.”

“I am nervous because the world is still giggling at my pajamas,” said the Secretary.

“Back to the pajamas!  Bad business! bad business!  I will have to dig a tunnel through your neckties to see if you have a cafe au lait or a cafe chanteuse in the trunk.  When a man gets nervous it is always wise to watch him.  Open your mouth!”

The Secretary did so.

“What have you been drinking?”

“A vermouth cocktail,” said the Secretary.

“Domestic or imported?”

“Neither; the Captain treated,” said the Secretary.