“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.”
Klinger smiled his satisfaction and passed on his way.
At the consulate his reception was none too cordial. Carlson disliked the ascendency which this manager of a commercial firm had over one occupying the office of representative of his government, especially as Klinger made no attempt to soften this evident fact by any “finesse” whatsoever. Klinger openly accused the consul of being soft-hearted, and too friendly with the English and Americans.