On the beach in front of the hotel he encountered his boy quietly sitting in the sand, his gaze upon the panorama of the bay. “Where is he?” the count exclaimed, much annoyed at the boy’s indifference. “Afraid he’s not here,” the boy acknowledged. If a look could kill the native would have died on the spot. It was evident that the stranger had sought other protection. Much annoyed at losing this man, whom he believed might have given him information of value to hold over the head of Captain Scott, he turned his steps toward his consulate. Mr. Carlson was drinking tea on his porch when the count arrived. “I came to tell you,” the count said condescendingly, “that I am taking a trip on that schooner anchored in the bay. Klinger discharged the cargo last night. It was all for the Kapuan firm.” The consul should have been consulted first before discharging cargo, but he knew that to hold his place as consul he must always meet the demands of Klinger. “I’d like to have you give me the clearance papers,” the count continued. “She will go to the plantations for copra and then return here. She’s now in ballast.” Carlson called his native clerk and told him to prepare the papers. The count was named as supercargo for the trip. After receiving the clearance papers the count did not linger at the consulate. “Remember, Mr. Carlson,” he said as he rose to go, “if the chief justice decides not to acknowledge Kataafa as king, you have agreed to refuse to stand with the other consuls to uphold that decision. The eagle,” he added, “is a coveted decoration.” The consul blushed with pleasure and smilingly nodded his fat head vigorously. Having eaten his breakfast and packed up sufficient clothes to take with him in the “Talofa,” the count strolled to the store. Klinger having been up all night was yet asleep in his office. The count seated himself on the porch and sent word by one of the natives standing guard over the freight from the schooner. Klinger appeared shortly. “You did a good night’s work, I see,” said the count. Klinger nodded sleepily. “Has Captain Scott a white man in his crew?” the count asked. “Yes, of course. Stump,” the manager replied, opening wide his eyes. “I remember now I didn’t see him on the schooner last night.” “What does this Stump look like?” the count asked. Klinger described him accurately. “That’s the very man,” the count exclaimed in alarm. “He deserted the schooner and tried to swim to the American war-ship. I picked him out of the water nearly drowned, and he slept at the Tivoli Hotel last night. He’s now loose in Ukula, and may spoil everything unless we can stop his tongue.” Klinger, however, did not seem greatly alarmed. “It’s odd that Scott didn’t speak of it, but I’m sure he can do no harm,” he replied quietly. “Stump is a peaceful, simple soul. Hasn’t sense enough to know how to harm anybody except himself. We are sure to get the arms to Kataafa, and the ‘black’ boys are now at Vaileli plantation.”