“What are you going to do with these more or less empty boxes?” the count suddenly asked, tapping upon them with his cane, apparently satisfied over the matter of Stump. “Leave them right here until I again hear from you,” Klinger replied. “They’ll arouse every one’s curiosity and divert attention from the ‘Talofa.’” The count nodded. “But not without a guard,” he said pointedly. “You must see Carlson and have him order the war-ship’s captain to send a file of sailors to spend the night at the store. That will help us a great deal, and,” he added, “don’t be too secret about it.” “I understand,” Klinger answered knowingly. “I’ll be off in the ‘Talofa’ this forenoon,” the count said, glancing out on the bay. “There doesn’t seem to be much breeze, yet it will be enough, I dare say, for the ‘Talofa’ to clear the entrance reefs.” The count was on the point of taking his departure. “Whoever comes ashore with the sailor guard should thoroughly understand what is expected of his men,” he continued. Klinger reassured him, and as he watched the commanding figure of the count disappear down the road, the manager smiled in perfect enjoyment. “They didn’t make any mistake when they sent him to Kapua,” he exclaimed admiringly. Several hours later Klinger watched the “Talofa” beat cleverly against a light head wind out of the harbor. He watched the swift schooner, under a full spread of canvas, sail to the eastward until the point of Matautu, with its high cliffs, shut her off from view. “So Stump’s deserted that old pirate Scott at last,” he said to himself amusedly. “When thieves fall out,” he quoted. “I wonder where the simpleton is at this minute.--I rather like him,” he added thoughtfully, “and if I could find him I’d be inclined to shield him from that hypocrite of a sea-pirate.” A native came briskly along the road advancing toward Klinger, a letter held out to him. Klinger took it, opened and read. “If Stump turns up after I am gone lock him up. I will explain when I return. “SCOTT.” Klinger tore the note into small pieces, strewing them on the ground as he walked rapidly toward the center of the town. At the municipal building he stopped. Several native policemen lounged about on the ground or squatted upon rude wooden benches. “Hey, Johnny Upolu!” he called, and a tall, finely muscled native, attired in a blue cotton lava-lava[14] and helmet, hurriedly drew on his blue policeman’s coat over his nakedness. “You know Stump, mate of the ‘Talofa’?” he said. The chief of the municipal police smiled knowingly. “He’s been up to mischief and the consul wants him taken up.” Johnny smiled proudly. He was a strong partisan of Kataafa, and was only too eager to show his friendliness to the papalangi, who were backing his favorite chief. “All right, Missi Klinger,” he replied in a strictly businesslike voice. “I’ll get him.”