When Count Rosen awakened the next morning, his first act was to open the blinds and glance out upon the harbor. Everything was peaceful and serene; the “Talofa” lay snugly at anchor. The firm’s lighters were alongside the dock in front of the store. It was low tide and the fringing reef was peopled with natives gathering the many edibles, turtle, crayfish and a variety of shell-fish, that form a great proportion of the Kapuan diet. The count entered the adjoining room; the memory of the man picked up from the water the night before had suddenly recurred to him. The room was empty. He called loudly for his native boy.
“Where is the stranger?” he asked.
“Gone out for a bath,” the boy answered innocently, showing his white teeth in a childlike smile.
“Bring him back at once,” the count commanded. “Tell him I wish to see him.”
The boy hastened on his errand, jingling several pieces of silver he had acquired from the very stranger whom he was seeking.
The count dressed hastily and himself took up the search for the missing man.
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.