He was the chief inspector of customs.

He bowed.
The Englishman, consternation widening his eyes, lowered his pipe.
"Monsieur Hamilton's pardon," the inspector began, speaking in French, "but with your permission I shall inspect your luggage and glance at your passports." He bowed again.
"Now do you know, mon ami," replied the Englishman, "that Monsieur Hamilton will not permit you to gaze even into yonder washbowl ?" He rose lazily.
"But, Monsieur," cried the astonished official, to whom non-complaisance in the matter of inspection was unprecedented, "you certainly will not put any obstacle in the path of my duty!" "Your duty, Monsieur the Spectacles, is to inspect at the station.
There your assistants refused to award me their attention.

You are trespassing." "Monsieur forgets," sternly; "it is the law.

Is it possible that I shall be forced to call in the gendarmes to assist me?
This is extraordinary!" "I dare say it is, on your part," admitted the Englishman, polishing the bowl of his pipe against the side of his nose.

"You had best go at once.
If you do not, I shall take you by the nape of your Bleibergian neck and kick you down the stairs.