"How many English are there, altogether?"
"A hundred and four. We made up the list last week. Of course that includes men, women, and children. There are some ten merchants, most of whom have one or two clerks. The rest of the men are small traders, and shopkeepers. Some of them make their living by supplying ships that put in here with necessaries. A few, at ordinary times, trade with the Rock in livestock. Half a dozen or so keep stores, where they sell English goods to the natives."
"I have a mission to discharge to a Mrs. Colomb, or at least to a young lady living with her."
"Mrs. Colomb, I regret to say, died three weeks ago," the clerk said. "Miss Harcourt--who is, I suppose, the young lady you mean--is now, with Mrs. Colomb's servant, staying here. Mr. Logie had placed them in lodgings in the house of a Moorish trader, just outside the town; but the young lady could not remain there, alone, after Mrs. Colomb's death. I will ring the bell, and tell the servant to inform her that you are here."
Two minutes later, Bob was shown into a large sitting room on the first floor, with a verandah overlooking the sea.
"Oh, Bob Repton, I am glad to see you!" Amy Harcourt exclaimed, coming forward impulsively, with both hands held out. "It is dreadfully lonely here. Mr. Logie is away, and poor Mrs. Colomb is dead and, as for Mrs. Williams, she does nothing but cry, and say we are all going to be shut up, and starved, in a Moorish prison.
"But first, how are father and mother, and everyone at the Rock?"
"They are all quite well, Amy; though your mother has been in a great state of anxiety about you, since she got your letter saying how ill Mrs. Colomb was. Here is a letter she has given me, for you."
He handed the girl the letter, and went out on to the verandah while she read it.
"Mamma says I am to act upon Mr. Logie's advice; and that, if by any means he should not be in a position to advise me, I am to take your advice, if Mrs. Colomb is dead."