in the Customs House, and perfect arrangements aboard a certain ship.  By these last double advantages, he came aboard with twenty trunks, if he so pleased, without risking anything from the inquisitiveness or loquacity of the officers of the ship; and later debarked at New York with the certainty of going scatheless through the customs as rapidly as his Inspector partner could chalk scrawlingly “O.K.” upon his sundry pieces of baggage.

Coming from Old Trinity, still mooting Cornbury and his smugglings, my thoughts turned to Harris.  Also, for the earliest time, I began to consider within myself whether smuggling was not a field of business wherein a pushing man might grow and reap a harvest.  The idea came to me to turn “free-trader.”  The government had destroyed me; I would make reprisal.  I would give my hand to smuggling and spoil the Egyptian.

At once I sought Harris and over a glass of Burgundy—­ever a favorite wine with me—­we struck agreement.  As a finale, we each put in fifteen thousand dollars and with the whole sum of thirty thousand dollars Harris pushed forth for Europe while I remained behind.  Harris visited Lyons; and our complete investment was in a choicest sort of Lyons silk.  The rich fabrics were packed in a dozen trunks—­not all alike, these trunks, but differing, one from another, so as to prevent the notion as they stood about the wharf that there was aught of relationship between them or that one man stood owner of them all.

It is not needed to tell of my partner’s voyage of return.  It was without event and one may safely abandon it, leaving its relation to Harris himself, if he be yet alive and should the spirit him so move.  It is enough for the present purpose that in due time the trunks holding our precious silk-bolts, with Harris as their convoy, arrived safe in New York.  I had been looking for the boat’s coming and was waiting eagerly on the wharf as her lines and her stagings were run ashore.  Our partner, the Inspector, and who was to enjoy a per cent of the profits of the speculation, was named Lorns.  He rapidly chalked “O.K.” with his name affixed to the end of each several trunk, and it thereupon with the balance of inspected baggage was promptly piled upon the wharf.

There had been a demand for drays, I remember, and on this day when our silks came in, I was able to procure but one.  The ship did not dock until late in the afternoon, and at eight o’clock of a dark, foggy April evening, there still remained one of our trunks—­the largest of all, it was—­on the wharf.  The dray had departed with the second load for that concealing loft on Reade Street which, in Harris’ absence, I had taken to be used as the depot of those smuggling operations wherein we might become engaged.  I had made every move with caution; I had never employed our real names, not even with the drayman.

As I was telling, the dray was engaged about the second trip.  This last large silk-trunk was left behind perforce; pile it how one might, there had been no safe room for it on the already overloaded dray.  The drayman had promised to return and have it safely in our loft that night.