You're smart
men. But the trouble with both o' you boys is you ain't got no
imagination. Without imagination nobody gets nowhere, unless it's
out th' small end o' th' horn. Maybe you boys ain't noticed it,
but my imagination is all that keeps me from goin' to jail. Now,
if you two had read the address on them two boxes, it wouldn't
'a' meant nothin' to you. Absolutely nothin'. But with me it's
different. I'm blessed with imagination enough to see right
through them Chinamen tricks. Them two boxes is marked "Oriental
Goods" an' consigned (here Mr. Gibney raised a grimy forefinger,
and Scraggs and McGuffey eyed it very much as if they expected it
to go off at any moment)--"them two boxes is consigned to the Gin
Seng Company, 714 Dupont Street, San Francisco."
"Well, that's up in Chinatown all right," admitted Captain
Scraggs, "but how about what's inside the two crates?"
"Oriental goods, of course," said McGuffey. "They're consigned to
a Chinaman, an' besides, that's what it says on the cases, don't
it, Gib? Oriental goods, Scraggs, is silks an' satins, rice, chop
suey, punk, an' idols an' fan tan layouts."
Mr. Gibney tapped gently with his horny knuckles on the honest
McGuffey's head.
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