It opened inward and as the room was very small, it pushed La Croix against the two bunks and wrung the startled cry from his lips: 

“Look out, Clara!”

The girl glared at the detectives and demanded: 

“What do you want in here?”

“That man!” said Harry, pointing at her father.

“What for?”

“Smuggling!”

“He isn’t!”

“We’ll search him and see.”

The Bradys grasped the excited Frenchman.

His clothing in the region of his stomach was bulging suspiciously and Old
King Brady slapped the spot and demanded: 

“What have you got there?”

“Nosing!” protested La Croix.  “Zees ees an outrage, sair!”

“Oh, I don’t know!” laughed Harry.

“Clara!” roared the man.  “Go tell ze captaine, quick, to come ’ere.”

The girl slipped out the door and vanished.

Left alone with the man, the detectives laughed and Harry said: 

“Unbutton your coat and vest.”

“Sacre! For why?” growled La Croix.

“We want to see what you’ve got stuffed in there.”

“Gentlemen, you wrong me!”

“Bosh!  Open up quick, or we’ll do it for you.”

La Croix reluctantly opened his vest and a package dropped out.

He then was of normal size.

“This is what we are after!” laughed Harry, picking up the parcel.

“But, Monsieur, eet ees only a worthless—­”

“Silence, sir!”

And Harry opened the mysterious parcel.

It was filled with sawdust.

The man laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and asked: 

“Veil, sair, you ees satisfied?”

There was a look of disgust on Harry’s face and he cried: 

“He has cleverly duped us and the girl got away with the valuables.”

Old King Brady was furious.

“Confound her!” he roared.  “Come—­search this man thoroughly, and if he has not got any contraband stuff, we’ll search the ship and arrest the girl.”

Harry turned La Croix’s pockets inside out.

Nothing was found upon his person.

Then they searched the room.

Still nothing came to light and Harry said: 

“He has nothing with him.”

“Very well.  The girl has, then.”

“Now, Monsieur, I hope you see zat you wrong me?” said La Croix.

Old King Brady gave him a peculiar look, shook his finger at the Frenchman and replied in angry tones: 

“We know you, La Croix.  You are the worst smuggler in this port.  It won’t be long before we run you in for your crooked work.”

“Ah—­how you can say zat?” innocently asked the man.

“We have no time to discuss the matter now, for we are very anxious to nab your daughter Clara,” said the old detective.  “But you will meet us again very soon.  Then look out!”

They hastened out of the stateroom.