The silver haired, distinguished looking old officer in charge knew that Jefferson's complaint was well founded, he knew that this particular inspector was a drunkard and a discredit to the government which employed him, but at the same time he also knew that political influence had been behind his appointment and that it was unsafe to do more than mildly reprimand him.

When, therefore, he accompanied Jefferson to the spot where the contents of the trunks lay scattered in confusion all over the dock, he merely expostulated with the officer, who made some insolent reply.

Seeing that it was useless to lose further time, Jefferson repacked his trunks as best he could and got them on a cab.

Then he hurried over to Shirley's party and found them already about to leave the pier.
"Come and see us, Jeff," whispered Shirley as their cab drove through the gates.
"Where," he asked, "Madison Avenue ?" She hesitated for a moment and then replied quickly: "No, we are stopping down on Long Island for the Summer--at a cute little place called Massapequa.

Run down and see us." He raised his hat and the cab drove on.
There was greater activity in the Rossmore cottage at Massapequa than there had been any day since the judge and his wife went to live there.