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*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Burroughs' The Return of Tarzan*



The Return Of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs





                    CONTENTS

CHAPTER
 1  The Affair on the Liner
 2  Forging Bonds of Hate and ----?
 3  What Happened in the Rue Maule
 4  The Countess Explains
 5  The Plot That Failed
 6  A Duel
 7  The Dancing Girl of Sidi Aissa
 8  The Fight in the Desert
 9  Numa "El Adrea"
10  Through the Valley of the Shadow
11  John Caldwell, London
12  Ships That Pass
13  The Wreck of the "Lady Alice"
14  Back to the Primitive
15  From Ape to Savage
16  The Ivory Raiders
17  The White Chief of the Waziri
18  The Lottery of Death
19  The City of Gold
20  La
21  The Castaways
22  The Treasure Vaults of Opar
23  The Fifty Frightful Men
24  How Tarzan Came Again to Opar
25  Through the Forest Primeval
26  The Passing of the Ape-Man



Chapter I


The Affair on the Liner


"Magnifique!" ejaculated the Countess de Coude, beneath
her breath.

"Eh?" questioned the count, turning toward his young wife.
"What is it that is magnificent?" and the count bent his eyes
in various directions in quest of the object of her admiration.

"Oh, nothing at all, my dear," replied the countess, a slight
flush momentarily coloring her already pink cheek.  "I was but
recalling with admiration those stupendous skyscrapers, as
they call them, of New York," and the fair countess settled
herself more comfortably in her steamer chair, and resumed
the magazine which "nothing at all" had caused her to let
fall upon her lap.

Her husband again buried himself in his book, but not
without a mild wonderment that three days out from New
York his countess should suddenly have realized an
admiration for the very buildings she had but recently
characterized as horrid.

Presently the count put down his book.  "It is very tiresome,
Olga," he said.  "I think that I shall hunt up some
others who may be equally bored, and see if we cannot find
enough for a game of cards."

"You are not very gallant, my husband," replied the young
woman, smiling, "but as I am equally bored I can forgive you.
Go and play at your tiresome old cards, then, if you will."

When he had gone she let her eyes wander slyly to the figure
of a tall young man stretched lazily in a chair not far distant.

"MAGNIFIQUE!" she breathed once more.

The Countess Olga de Coude was twenty.  Her husband forty.
She was a very faithful and loyal wife, but as she had had
nothing whatever to do with the selection of a husband,
it is not at all unlikely that she was not wildly and
passionately in love with the one that fate and her titled
Russian father had selected for her.  However, simply because
she was surprised into a tiny exclamation of approval at sight
of a splendid young stranger it must not be inferred therefrom
that her thoughts were in any way disloyal to her spouse.
She merely admired, as she might have admired a particularly
fine specimen of any species.  Furthermore, the young man
was unquestionably good to look at.

As her furtive glance rested upon his profile he rose to leave
the deck.  The Countess de Coude beckoned to a passing steward.
"Who is that gentleman?" she asked.

"He is booked, madam, as Monsieur Tarzan, of Africa,"
replied the steward.

"Rather a large estate," thought the girl, but now her
interest was still further aroused.

As Tarzan walked slowly toward the smoking-room he
came unexpectedly upon two men whispering excitedly just
without.  He would have vouchsafed them not even a passing
thought but for the strangely guilty glance that one of them
shot in his direction.  They reminded Tarzan of melodramatic
villains he had seen at the theaters in Paris.  Both were very
dark, and this, in connection with the shrugs and stealthy
glances that accompanied their palpable intriguing, lent still
greater force to the similarity.

Tarzan entered the smoking-room, and sought a chair a
little apart from the others who were there.  He felt in no
mood for conversation, and as he sipped his absinth he let
his mind run rather sorrowfully over the past few weeks of
his life.  Time and again he had wondered if he had acted
wisely in renouncing his birthright to a man to whom he
owed nothing.  It is true that he liked Clayton, but--ah, but
that was not the question.  It was not for William Cecil Clayton,
Lord Greystoke, that he had denied his birth.  It was for
the woman whom both he and Clayton had loved, and whom a
strange freak of fate had given to Clayton instead of to him.

That she loved him made the thing doubly difficult to bear,
yet he knew that he could have done nothing less than he
did do that night within the little railway station in the far
Wisconsin woods.  To him her happiness was the first consideration
of all, and his brief experience with civilization and civilized
men had taught him that without money and position life to
most of them was unendurable.

Jane Porter had been born to both, and had Tarzan taken
them away from her future husband it would doubtless have
plunged her into a life of misery and torture.  That she would
have spurned Clayton once he had been stripped of both his
title and his estates never for once occurred to Tarzan, for
he credited to others the same honest loyalty that was so
inherent a quality in himself.  Nor, in this instance, had he erred.
Could any one thing have further bound Jane Porter to her
promise to Clayton it would have been in the nature
of some such misfortune as this overtaking him.

Tarzan's thoughts drifted from the past to the future.
He tried to look forward with pleasurable sensations to his
return to the jungle of his birth and boyhood; the cruel, fierce
jungle in which he had spent twenty of his twenty-two years.
But who or what of all the myriad jungle life would there
be to welcome his return?  Not one.  Only Tantor, the elephant,
could he call friend.  The others would hunt him or
flee from him as had been their way in the past.

Not even the apes of his own tribe would extend the hand
of fellowship to him.

If civilization had done nothing else for Tarzan of the
Apes, it had to some extent taught him to crave the society
of his own kind, and to feel with genuine pleasure the
congenial warmth of companionship.  And in the same ratio
had it made any other life distasteful to him.  It was difficult
to imagine a world without a friend--without a living thing
who spoke the new tongues which Tarzan had learned to
love so well.  And so it was that Tarzan looked with little
relish upon the future he had mapped out for himself.

As he sat musing over his cigarette his eyes fell upon a
mirror before him, and in it he saw reflected a table at which
four men sat at cards.  Presently one of them rose to leave,
and then another approached, and Tarzan could see that he
courteously offered to fill the vacant chair, that the game
might not be interrupted.  He was the smaller of the two whom
Tarzan had seen whispering just outside the smoking-room.

It was this fact that aroused a faint spark of interest in
Tarzan, and so as he speculated upon the future he watched
in the mirror the reflection of the players at the table
behind him.  Aside from the man who had but just entered the
game Tarzan knew the name of but one of the other players.
It was he who sat opposite the new player, Count Raoul
de Coude, whom at over-attentive steward had pointed out as
one of the celebrities of the passage, describing him as a
man high in the official family of the French minister of war.

Suddenly Tarzan's attention was riveted upon the picture
in the glass.  The other swarthy plotter had entered, and was
standing behind the count's chair.  Tarzan saw him turn and
glance furtively about the room, but his eyes did not rest for
a sufficient time upon the mirror to note the reflection of
Tarzan's watchful eyes.  Stealthily the man withdrew something
from his pocket.  Tarzan could not discern what the object was,
for the man's hand covered it.

Slowly the hand approached the count, and then, very deftly,
the thing that was in it was transferred to the count's pocket.
The man remained standing where he could watch the
Frenchman's cards.  Tarzan was puzzled, but he was all
attention now, nor did he permit another detail of the
incident to escape him.

The play went on for some ten minutes after this, until
the count won a considerable wager from him who had
last joined the game, and then Tarzan saw the fellow back
of the count's chair nod his head to his confederate.
Instantly the player arose and pointed a finger at the count.

"Had I known that monsieur was a professional card sharp
I had not been so ready to be drawn into the game," he said.

Instantly the count and the two other players were upon
their feet.

De Coude's face went white.

"What do you mean, sir?" he cried.  "Do you know to whom
you speak?"

"I know that I speak, for the last time, to one who cheats
at cards," replied the fellow.

The count leaned across the table, and struck the man full
in the mouth with his open palm, and then the others closed
in between them.

"There is some mistake, sir," cried one of the other players.
"Why, this is Count de Coude, of France."
"If I am mistaken," said the accuser, "I shall gladly apologize;
but before I do so first let monsieur le count explain
the extra cards which I saw him drop into his side pocket."

And then the man whom Tarzan had seen drop them there
turned to sneak from the room, but to his annoyance he
found the exit barred by a tall, gray-eyed stranger.

"Pardon," said the man brusquely, attempting to pass to one side.

"Wait," said Tarzan.

"But why, monsieur?" exclaimed the other petulantly.
"Permit me to pass, monsieur."

"Wait," said Tarzan.  "I think that there is a matter in here
that you may doubtless be able to explain."

The fellow had lost his temper by this time, and with a low
oath seized Tarzan to push him to one side.  The ape-man
but smiled as he twisted the big fellow about and, grasping
him by the collar of his coat, escorted him back to the table,
struggling, cursing, and striking in futile remonstrance.
It was Nikolas Rokoff's first experience with the muscles that
had brought their savage owner victorious through encounters
with Numa, the lion, and Terkoz, the great bull ape.

The man who had accused De Coude, and the two others who
had been playing, stood looking expectantly at the count.
Several other passengers had drawn toward the scene of the
altercation, and all awaited the denouement.

"The fellow is crazy," said the count.  "Gentlemen, I implore
that one of you search me."

"The accusation is ridiculous."  This from one of the players.

"You have but to slip your hand in the count's coat pocket
and you will see that the accusation is quite serious," insisted
the accuser.  And then, as the others still hesitated to do so:
"Come, I shall do it myself if no other will," and he stepped
forward toward the count.

"No, monsieur," said De Coude.  "I will submit to a search
only at the hands of a gentleman."

"It is unnecessary to search the count.  The cards are in
his pocket.  I myself saw them placed there."

All turned in surprise toward this new speaker, to behold
a very well-built young man urging a resisting captive toward
them by the scruff of his neck.

"It is a conspiracy," cried De Coude angrily.  "There are no
cards in my coat," and with that he ran his hand into his
pocket.  As he did so tense silence reigned in the little group.
The count went dead white, and then very slowly he withdrew
his hand, and in it were three cards.

He looked at them in mute and horrified surprise, and slowly
the red of mortification suffused his face.  Expressions of
pity and contempt tinged the features of those who looked
on at the death of a man's honor.

"It is a conspiracy, monsieur."  It was the gray-eyed stranger
who spoke.  "Gentlemen," he continued, "monsieur le count
did not know that those cards were in his pocket.  They were
placed there without his knowledge as he sat at play.
From where I sat in that chair yonder I saw the reflection of it
all in the mirror before me.  This person whom I just intercepted
in an effort to escape placed the cards in the count's pocket."

De Coude had glanced from Tarzan to the man in his grasp.

"MON DIEU, Nikolas!" he cried.  "You?"

Then he turned to his accuser, and eyed him intently for a moment.

"And you, monsieur, I did not recognize you without your
beard.  It quite disguises you, Paulvitch.  I see it all now.
It is quite clear, gentlemen."

"What shall we do with them, monsieur?" asked Tarzan.
"Turn them over to the captain?"

"No, my friend," said the count hastily.  "It is a personal
matter, and I beg that you will let it drop.  It is sufficient
that I have been exonerated from the charge.  The less we have
to do with such fellows, the better.  But, monsieur, how can
I thank you for the great kindness you have done me?
Permit me to offer you my card, and should the time come
when I may serve you, remember that I am yours to command."

Tarzan had released Rokoff, who, with his confederate,
Paulvitch, had hastened from the smoking-room.  Just as he
was leaving, Rokoff turned to Tarzan.  "Monsieur will have
ample opportunity to regret his interference in the affairs
of others."

Tarzan smiled, and then, bowing to the count, handed him
his own card.

The count read:

                  M. JEAN C. TARZAN


"Monsieur Tarzan," he said, "may indeed wish that he had
never befriended me, for I can assure him that he has won
the enmity of two of the most unmitigated scoundrels in all
Europe.  Avoid them, monsieur, by all means."

"I have had more awe-inspiring enemies, my dear count," replied
Tarzan with a quiet smile, "yet I am still alive and unworried.
I think that neither of these two will ever find the means to harm me."

"Let us hope not, monsieur," said De Coude; "but yet it will
do no harm to be on the alert, and to know that you have made
at least one enemy today who never forgets and never forgives,
and in whose malignant brain there are always hatching new
atrocities to perpetrate upon those who have thwarted or
offended him.  To say that Nikolas Rokoff is a devil would
be to place a wanton affront upon his satanic majesty."

That night as Tarzan entered his cabin he found a folded
note upon the floor that had evidently been pushed beneath
the door.  He opened it and read:

M. TARZAN:

Doubtless you did not realize the gravity of your offense,
or you would not have done the thing you did today.
I am willing to believe that you acted in ignorance and
without any intention to offend a stranger.  For this reason
I shall gladly permit you to offer an apology, and on receiving
your assurances that you will not again interfere in affairs
that do not concern you, I shall drop the matter.

Otherwise--but I am sure that you will see the wisdom of
adopting the course I suggest.
                                    Very respectfully,
                                                NIKOLAS ROKOFF.


Tarzan permitted a grim smile to play about his lips for a
moment, then he promptly dropped the matter from his mind,
and went to bed.

In a nearby cabin the Countess de Coude was speaking to her husband.

"Why so grave, my dear Raoul?" she asked.  "You have been
as glum as could be all evening.  What worries you?"

"Olga, Nikolas is on board.  Did you know it?"

"Nikolas!" she exclaimed.  "But it is impossible, Raoul.
It cannot be.  Nikolas is under arrest in Germany."

"So I thought myself until I saw him today--him and that
other arch scoundrel, Paulvitch.  Olga, I cannot endure his
persecution much longer.  No, not even for you.  Sooner or later
I shall turn him over to the authorities.  In fact, I am half
minded to explain all to the captain before we land.  On a
French liner it were an easy matter, Olga, permanently to
settle this Nemesis of ours."

"Oh, no, Raoul!" cried the countess, sinking to her knees
before him as he sat with bowed head upon a divan.  "Do not
do that.  Remember your promise to me.  Tell me, Raoul, that
you will not do that.  Do not even threaten him, Raoul."

De Coude took his wife's hands in his, and gazed upon
her pale and troubled countenance for some time before he
spoke, as though he would wrest from those beautiful eyes
the real reason which prompted her to shield this man.

"Let it be as you wish, Olga," he said at length.  "I cannot
understand.  He has forfeited all claim upon your love, loyalty,
or respect.  He is a menace to your life and honor, and the
life and honor of your husband.  I trust you may never regret
championing him."

"I do not champion him, Raoul," she interrupted vehemently.
"I believe that I hate him as much as you do, but--Oh, Raoul,
blood is thicker than water."

"I should today have liked to sample the consistency of
his," growled De Coude grimly.  "The two deliberately
attempted to besmirch my honor, Olga," and then he told her
of all that had happened in the smoking-room.  "Had it
not been for this utter stranger, they had succeeded, for who
would have accepted my unsupported word against the damning
evidence of those cards hidden on my person?  I had almost
begun to doubt myself when this Monsieur Tarzan dragged
your precious Nikolas before us, and explained the
whole cowardly transaction."

"Monsieur Tarzan?" asked the countess, in evident surprise.

"Yes.  Do you know him, Olga?"

"I have seen him.  A steward pointed him out to me."

"I did not know that he was a celebrity," said the count.

Olga de Coude changed the subject.  She discovered suddenly
that she might find it difficult to explain just why
the steward had pointed out the handsome Monsieur Tarzan
to her.  Perhaps she flushed the least little bit, for was
not the count, her husband, gazing at her with a strangely
quizzical expression.  "Ah," she thought, "a guilty
conscience is a most suspicious thing."



Chapter 2


Forging Bonds of Hate and ----?


It was not until late the following afternoon that Tarzan
saw anything more of the fellow passengers into the midst
of whose affairs his love of fair play had thrust him.
And then he came most unexpectedly upon Rokoff and Paulvitch
at a moment when of all others the two might least
appreciate his company.

They were standing on deck at a point which was temporarily
deserted, and as Tarzan came upon them they were in
heated argument with a woman.  Tarzan noted that she was
richly appareled, and that her slender, well-modeled figure
denoted youth; but as she was heavily veiled he could not
discern her features.

The men were standing on either side of her, and the
backs of all were toward Tarzan, so that he was quite close
to them without their being aware of his presence.
He noticed that Rokoff seemed to be threatening, the woman
pleading; but they spoke in a strange tongue, and he could
only guess from appearances that the girl was afraid.

Rokoff's attitude was so distinctly filled with the threat of
physical violence that the ape-man paused for an instant just
behind the trio, instinctively sensing an atmosphere of danger.
Scarcely had he hesitated ere the man seized the woman
roughly by the wrist, twisting it as though to wring a promise
from her through torture.  What would have happened next
had Rokoff had his way we may only conjecture, since he
did not have his way at all.  Instead, steel fingers gripped his
shoulder, and he was swung unceremoniously around, to meet
the cold gray eyes of the stranger who had thwarted him
on the previous day.

"SAPRISTI!" screamed the infuriated Rokoff.  "What do you
mean?  Are you a fool that you thus again insult Nikolas Rokoff?"

"This is my answer to your note, monsieur," said Tarzan,
in a low voice.  And then he hurled the fellow from him with
such force that Rokoff lunged sprawling against the rail.

"Name of a name!" shrieked Rokoff.  "Pig, but you shall die
for this," and, springing to his feet, he rushed upon Tarzan,
tugging the meanwhile to draw a revolver from his hip
pocket.  The girl shrank back in terror.

"Nikolas!" she cried.  "Do not--oh, do not do that.  Quick,
monsieur, fly, or he will surely kill you!"  But instead of
flying Tarzan advanced to meet the fellow.  "Do not make a
fool of yourself, monsieur," he said.

Rokoff, who was in a perfect frenzy of rage at the humiliation
the stranger had put upon him, had at last succeeded in drawing
the revolver.  He had stopped, and now he deliberately raised
it to Tarzan's breast and pulled the trigger.  The hammer fell
with a futile click on an empty chamber--the ape-man's hand
shot out like the head of an angry python; there was a quick
wrench, and the revolver sailed far out across the ship's
rail, and dropped into the Atlantic.

For a moment the two men stood there facing one another.  Rokoff
had regained his self-possession.  He was the first to speak.

"Twice now has monsieur seen fit to interfere in matters
which do not concern him.  Twice he has taken it upon himself
to humiliate Nikolas Rokoff.  The first offense was overlooked
on the assumption that monsieur acted through ignorance,
but this affair shall not be overlooked.  If monsieur
does not know who Nikolas Rokoff is, this last piece of
effrontery will insure that monsieur later has good reason
to remember him."

"That you are a coward and a scoundrel, monsieur," replied
Tarzan, "is all that I care to know of you," and he
turned to ask the girl if the man had hurt her, but she had
disappeared.  Then, without even a glance toward Rokoff and
his companion, he continued his stroll along the deck.

Tarzan could not but wonder what manner of conspiracy
was on foot, or what the scheme of the two men might be.
There had been something rather familiar about the
appearance of the veiled woman to whose rescue he had just
come, but as he had not seen her face he could not be sure
that he had ever seen her before.  The only thing about her
that he had particularly noticed was a ring of peculiar
workmanship upon a finger of the hand that Rokoff had
seized, and he determined to note the fingers of the women
passengers he came upon thereafter, that he might discover
the identity of her whom Rokoff was persecuting, and learn
if the fellow had offered her further annoyance.

Tarzan had sought his deck chair, where he sat speculating
on the numerous instances of human cruelty, selfishness, and
spite that had fallen to his lot to witness since that day in
the jungle four years since that his eyes had first fallen
upon a human being other than himself--the sleek, black
Kulonga, whose swift spear had that day found the vitals of
Kala, the great she-ape, and robbed the youth, Tarzan, of
the only mother he had ever known.

He recalled the murder of King by the rat-faced Snipes;
the abandonment of Professor Porter and his party by the
mutineers of the ARROW; the cruelty of the black warriors
and women of Mbonga to their captives; the petty jealousies of
the civil and military officers of the West Coast colony that
had afforded him his first introduction to the civilized world.

"MON DIEU!" he soliloquized, "but they are all alike.
Cheating, murdering, lying, fighting, and all for things that
the beasts of the jungle would not deign to possess--money
to purchase the effeminate pleasures of weaklings.  And yet
withal bound down by silly customs that make them slaves to
their unhappy lot while firm in the belief that they be the
lords of creation enjoying the only real pleasures of existence.
In the jungle one would scarcely stand supinely aside while
another took his mate.  It is a silly world, an idiotic world,
and Tarzan of the Apes was a fool to renounce the freedom and
the happiness of his jungle to come into it."

Presently, as he sat there, the sudden feeling came over
him that eyes were watching from behind, and the old
instinct of the wild beast broke through the thin veneer of
civilization, so that Tarzan wheeled about so quickly that the
eyes of the young woman who had been surreptitiously regarding
him had not even time to drop before the gray eyes
of the ape-man shot an inquiring look straight into them.
Then, as they fell, Tarzan saw a faint wave of crimson creep
swiftly over the now half-averted face.

He smiled to himself at the result of his very uncivilized and
ungallant action, for he had not lowered his own eyes when
they met those of the young woman.  She was very young,
and equally good to look upon.  Further, there was something
rather familiar about her that set Tarzan to wondering
where he had seen her before.  He resumed his former position,
and presently he was aware that she had arisen and was
leaving the deck.  As she passed, Tarzan turned to watch her,
in the hope that he might discover a clew to satisfy his mild
curiosity as to her identity.

Nor was he disappointed entirely, for as she walked away
she raised one hand to the black, waving mass at the nape
of her neck--the peculiarly feminine gesture that admits
cognizance of appraising eyes behind her--and Tarzan saw
upon a finger of this hand the ring of strange workmanship
that he had seen upon the finger of the veiled woman a short
time before.

So it was this beautiful young woman Rokoff had been
persecuting.  Tarzan wondered in a lazy sort of way whom
she might be, and what relations one so lovely could have
with the surly, bearded Russian.

After dinner that evening Tarzan strolled forward, where
he remained until after dark, in conversation with the second
officer, and when that gentleman's duties called him elsewhere
Tarzan lolled lazily by the rail watching the play of
the moonlight upon the gently rolling waters.  He was
half hidden by a davit, so that two men who approached
along the deck did not see him, and as they passed Tarzan
caught enough of their conversation to cause him to fall in
behind them, to follow and learn what deviltry they were up
to.  He had recognized the voice as that of Rokoff, and had
seen that his companion was Paulvitch.

Tarzan had overheard but a few words:  "And if she screams
you may choke her until--"  But those had been enough to
arouse the spirit of adventure within him, and so he kept the
two men in sight as they walked, briskly now, along the deck.
To the smoking-room he followed them, but they merely
halted at the doorway long enough, apparently, to assure
themselves that one whose whereabouts they wished to
establish was within.

Then they proceeded directly to the first-class cabins upon
the promenade deck.  Here Tarzan found greater difficulty
in escaping detection, but he managed to do so successfully.
As they halted before one of the polished hardwood doors,
Tarzan slipped into the shadow of a passageway not a dozen
feet from them.

To their knock a woman's voice asked in French:  "Who is it?"

"It is I, Olga--Nikolas," was the answer, in Rokoff's now
familiar guttural.  "May I come in?"

"Why do you not cease persecuting me, Nikolas?" came
the voice of the woman from beyond the thin panel.
"I have never harmed you."

"Come, come, Olga," urged the man, in propitiary tones;
"I but ask a half dozen words with you.  I shall not harm you,
nor shall I enter your cabin; but I cannot shout my message
through the door."

Tarzan heard the catch click as it was released from the
inside.  He stepped out from his hiding-place far enough to
see what transpired when the door was opened, for he could
not but recall the sinister words he had heard a few moments
before upon the deck, "And if she screams you may choke her."

Rokoff was standing directly in front of the door.  Paulvitch
had flattened himself against the paneled wall of the corridor
beyond.  The door opened.  Rokoff half entered the room, and
stood with his back against the door, speaking in a low whisper
to the woman, whom Tarzan could not see.  Then Tarzan heard the
woman's voice, level, but loud enough to distinguish her words.

"No, Nikolas," she was saying, "it is useless.  Threaten as you
will, I shall never accede to your demands.  Leave the room,
please; you have no right here.  You promised not to enter."

"Very well, Olga, I shall not enter; but before I am done
with you, you shall wish a thousand times that you had
done at once the favor I have asked.  In the end I shall win
anyway, so you might as well save trouble and time for me,
and disgrace for yourself and your--"

"Never, Nikolas!" interrupted the woman, and then Tarzan
saw Rokoff turn and nod to Paulvitch, who sprang quickly
toward the doorway of the cabin, rushing in past Rokoff, who
held the door open for him.  Then the latter stepped quickly out.
The door closed.  Tarzan heard the click of the lock as
Paulvitch turned it from the inside.  Rokoff remained standing
before the door, with head bent, as though to catch the words
of the two within.  A nasty smile curled his bearded lip.

Tarzan could hear the woman's voice commanding the fellow to
leave her cabin.  "I shall send for my husband," she cried.
"He will show you no mercy."

Paulvitch's sneering laugh came through the polished panels.

"The purser will fetch your husband, madame," said the man.
"In fact, that officer has already been notified that you
are entertaining a man other than your husband behind the
locked door of your cabin."

"Bah!" cried the woman.  "My husband will know!"

"Most assuredly your husband will know, but the purser
will not; nor will the newspaper men who shall in some
mysterious way hear of it on our landing.  But they will
think it a fine story, and so will all your friends when they
read of it at breakfast on--let me see, this is Tuesday--yes,
when they read of it at breakfast next Friday morning.
Nor will it detract from the interest they will all feel when
they learn that the man whom madame entertained is a Russian
servant--her brother's valet, to be quite exact."

"Alexis Paulvitch," came the woman's voice, cold and fearless,
"you are a coward, and when I whisper a certain name
in your ear you will think better of your demands upon me
and your threats against me, and then you will leave my
cabin quickly, nor do I think that ever again will you, at
least, annoy me," and there came a moment's silence in
which Tarzan could imagine the woman leaning toward the
scoundrel and whispering the thing she had hinted at into
his ear.  Only a moment of silence, and then a startled oath
from the man--the scuffling of feet--a woman's scream--
and silence.

But scarcely had the cry ceased before the ape-man had
leaped from his hiding-place.  Rokoff started to run, but
Tarzan grasped him by the collar and dragged him back.
Neither spoke, for both felt instinctively that murder was
being done in that room, and Tarzan was confident that Rokoff
had had no intention that his confederate should go that
far--he felt that the man's aims were deeper than that--deeper
and even more sinister than brutal, cold-blooded murder.
Without hesitating to question those within, the ape-man
threw his giant shoulder against the frail panel, and in a
shower of splintered wood he entered the cabin, dragging
Rokoff after him.  Before him, on a couch, the woman lay,
and on top of her was Paulvitch, his fingers gripping the
fair throat, while his victim's hands beat futilely at his face,
tearing desperately at the cruel fingers that were forcing the
life from her.

The noise of his entrance brought Paulvitch to his feet,
where he stood glowering menacingly at Tarzan.  The girl
rose falteringly to a sitting posture upon the couch.
One hand was at her throat, and her breath came in little gasps.
Although disheveled and very pale, Tarzan recognized her
as the young woman whom he had caught staring at him on
deck earlier in the day.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Tarzan, turning to Rokoff,
whom he intuitively singled out as the instigator of the outrage.
The man remained silent, scowling.  "Touch the button, please,"
continued the ape-man; "we will have one of the ship's
officers here--this affair has gone quite far enough."

"No, no," cried the girl, coming suddenly to her feet.
"Please do not do that.  I am sure that there was no real
intention to harm me.  I angered this person, and he lost
control of himself, that is all.  I would not care to have the
matter go further, please, monsieur," and there was such a
note of pleading in her voice that Tarzan could not press
the matter, though his better judgment warned him that
there was something afoot here of which the proper
authorities should be made cognizant.

"You wish me to do nothing, then, in the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing, please," she replied.

"You are content that these two scoundrels should continue
persecuting you?"

She did not seem to know what answer to make, and
looked very troubled and unhappy.  Tarzan saw a malicious
grin of triumph curl Rokoff's lip.  The girl evidently was in
fear of these two--she dared not express her real desires
before them.

"Then," said Tarzan, "I shall act on my own responsibility.
To you," he continued, turning to Rokoff, "and this includes
your accomplice, I may say that from now on to the end of
the voyage I shall take it upon myself to keep an eye on
you, and should there chance to come to my notice any
act of either one of you that might even remotely annoy this
young woman you shall be called to account for it directly
to me, nor shall the calling or the accounting be pleasant
experiences for either of you.

"Now get out of here," and he grabbed Rokoff and
Paulvitch each by the scruff of the neck and thrust them
forcibly through the doorway, giving each an added impetus
down the corridor with the toe of his boot.  Then he turned
back to the stateroom and the girl.  She was looking at him
in wide-eyed astonishment.

"And you, madame, will confer a great favor upon me if you
will but let me know if either of those rascals troubles
you further."

"Ah, monsieur," she answered, "I hope that you will not
suffer for the kind deed you attempted.  You have made a
very wicked and resourceful enemy, who will stop at nothing
to satisfy his hatred.  You must be very careful indeed,
Monsieur--"

"Pardon me, madame, my name is Tarzan."

"Monsieur Tarzan.  And because I would not consent to
notify the officers, do not think that I am not sincerely
grateful to you for the brave and chivalrous protection you
rendered me.  Good night, Monsieur Tarzan.  I shall never
forget the debt I owe you," and, with a most winsome smile
that displayed a row of perfect teeth, the girl curtsied to
Tarzan, who bade her good night and made his way on deck.

It puzzled the man considerably that there should be two
on board--this girl and Count de Coude--who suffered
indignities at the hands of Rokoff and his companion, and yet
would not permit the offenders to be brought to justice.
Before he turned in that night his thoughts reverted many
times to the beautiful young woman into the evidently tangled
web of whose life fate had so strangely introduced him.
It occurred to him that he had not learned her name.
That she was married had been evidenced by the narrow gold
band that encircled the third finger of her left hand.
Involuntarily he wondered who the lucky man might be.

Tarzan saw nothing further of any of the actors in the
little drama that he had caught a fleeting glimpse of until
late in the afternoon of the last day of the voyage.  Then he
came suddenly face to face with the young woman as the
two approached their deck chairs from opposite directions.
She greeted him with a pleasant smile, speaking almost
immediately of the affair he had witnessed in her cabin two
nights before.  It was as though she had been perturbed by a
conviction that he might have construed her acquaintance
with such men as Rokoff and Paulvitch as a personal
reflection upon herself.

"I trust monsieur has not judged me," she said, "by the
unfortunate occurrence of Tuesday evening.  I have suffered
much on account of it--this is the first time that I
have ventured from my cabin since; I have been ashamed,"
she concluded simply.

"One does not judge the gazelle by the lions that attack
it," replied Tarzan.  "I had seen those two work before--in
the smoking-room the day prior to their attack on you, if I
recollect it correctly, and so, knowing their methods, I am
convinced that their enmity is a sufficient guarantee of the
integrity of its object.  Men such as they must cleave only
to the vile, hating all that is noblest and best."

"It is very kind of you to put it that way," she replied,
smiling.  "I have already heard of the matter of the card
game.  My husband told me the entire story.  He spoke
especially of the strength and bravery of Monsieur Tarzan,
to whom he feels that he owes an immense debt of gratitude."

"Your husband?" repeated Tarzan questioningly.

"Yes.  I am the Countess de Coude."

"I am already amply repaid, madame, in knowing that I
have rendered a service to the wife of the Count de Coude."

"Alas, monsieur, I already am so greatly indebted to you
that I may never hope to settle my own account, so pray
do not add further to my obligations," and she smiled so
sweetly upon him that Tarzan felt that a man might easily
attempt much greater things than he had accomplished, solely
for the pleasure of receiving the benediction of that smile.

He did not see her again that day, and in the rush of
landing on the following morning he missed her entirely,
but there had been something in the expression of her eyes
as they parted on deck the previous day that haunted him.
It had been almost wistful as they had spoken of the
strangeness of the swift friendships of an ocean crossing,
and of the equal ease with which they are broken forever.

Tarzan wondered if he should ever see her again.



Chapter 3


What Happened in the Rue Maule


On his arrival in Paris, Tarzan had gone directly to
the apartments of his old friend, D'Arnot, where the
naval lieutenant had scored him roundly for his decision
to renounce the title and estates that were rightly his
from his father, John Clayton, the late Lord Greystoke.

"You must be mad, my friend," said D'Arnot, "thus lightly
to give up not alone wealth and position, but an opportunity
to prove beyond doubt to all the world that in your veins
flows the noble blood of two of England's most honored
houses--instead of the blood of a savage she-ape.  It is
incredible that they could have believed you--Miss Porter
least of all.

"Why, I never did believe it, even back in the wilds of
your African jungle, when you tore the raw meat of your
kills with mighty jaws, like some wild beast, and wiped your
greasy hands upon your thighs.  Even then, before there was
the slightest proof to the contrary, I knew that you were
mistaken in the belief that Kala was your mother.

"And now, with your father's diary of the terrible life
led by him and your mother on that wild African shore;
with the account of your birth, and, final and most
convincing proof of all, your own baby finger prints upon the
pages of it, it seems incredible to me that you are willing
to remain a nameless, penniless vagabond."

"I do not need any better name than Tarzan," replied the
ape-man; "and as for remaining a penniless vagabond, I
have no intention of so doing.  In fact, the next, and let us
hope the last, burden that I shall be forced to put upon your
unselfish friendship will be the finding of employment for me."

"Pooh, pooh!" scoffed D'Arnot.  "You know that I did not
mean that.  Have I not told you a dozen times that I have
enough for twenty men, and that half of what I have is
yours?  And if I gave it all to you, would it represent even
the tenth part of the value I place upon your friendship,
my Tarzan?  Would it repay the services you did me in Africa?
I do not forget, my friend, that but for you and your
wondrous bravery I had died at the stake in the village
of Mbonga's cannibals.  Nor do I forget that to your self-
sacrificing devotion I owe the fact that I recovered from the
terrible wounds I received at their hands--I discovered later
something of what it meant to you to remain with me in the
amphitheater of apes while your heart was urging you on to
the coast.

"When we finally came there, and found that Miss Porter
and her party had left, I commenced to realize something of
what you had done for an utter stranger.  Nor am I trying to
repay you with money, Tarzan.  It is that just at present you
need money; were it sacrifice that I might offer you it were
the same--my friendship must always be yours, because our
tastes are similar, and I admire you.  That I cannot command,
but the money I can and shall."

"Well," laughed Tarzan, "we shall not quarrel over the money.
I must live, and so I must have it; but I shall be more
contented with something to do.  You cannot show me your
friendship in a more convincing manner than to find
employment for me--I shall die of inactivity in a short while.
As for my birthright--it is in good hands.  Clayton is not
guilty of robbing me of it.  He truly believes that he
is the real Lord Greystoke, and the chances are that he will
make a better English lord than a man who was born and
raised in an African jungle.  You know that I am but half
civilized even now.  Let me see red in anger but for a moment,
and all the instincts of the savage beast that I really
am, submerge what little I possess of the milder ways of
culture and refinement.

"And then again, had I declared myself I should have
robbed the woman I love of the wealth and position that
her marriage to Clayton will now insure to her.  I could
not have done that--could I, Paul?

"Nor is the matter of birth of great importance to me,"
he went on, without waiting for a reply.  "Raised as I have
been, I see no worth in man or beast that is not theirs by
virtue of their own mental or physical prowess.  And so I
am as happy to think of Kala as my mother as I would be
to try to picture the poor, unhappy little English girl who
passed away a year after she bore me.  Kala was always kind
to me in her fierce and savage way.  I must have nursed at
her hairy breast from the time that my own mother died.
She fought for me against the wild denizens of the forest,
and against the savage members of our tribe, with the
ferocity of real mother love.

"And I, on my part, loved her, Paul.  I did not realize
how much until after the cruel spear and the poisoned arrow
of Mbonga's black warrior had stolen her away from me.  I
was still a child when that occurred, and I threw myself
upon her dead body and wept out my anguish as a child
might for his own mother.  To you, my friend, she would
have appeared a hideous and ugly creature, but to me she
was beautiful--so gloriously does love transfigure its object.
And so I am perfectly content to remain forever the son of
Kala, the she-ape."

"I do not admire you the less for your loyalty," said
D'Arnot, "but the time will come when you will be glad
to claim your own.  Remember what I say, and let us hope
that it will be as easy then as it is now.  You must bear in
mind that Professor Porter and Mr. Philander are the only
people in the world who can swear that the little skeleton
found in the cabin with those of your father and mother was
that of an infant anthropoid ape, and not the offspring of
Lord and Lady Greystoke.  That evidence is most important.
They are both old men.  They may not live many years longer.
And then, did it not occur to you that once Miss Porter
knew the truth she would break her engagement with Clayton?
You might easily have your title, your estates, and the
woman you love, Tarzan.  Had you not thought of that?"

Tarzan shook his head.  "You do not know her," he said.
"Nothing could bind her closer to her bargain than some
misfortune to Clayton.  She is from an old southern family in
America, and southerners pride themselves upon their loyalty."

Tarzan spent the two following weeks renewing his former
brief acquaintance with Paris.  In the daytime he haunted
the libraries and picture galleries.  He had become an
omnivorous reader, and the world of possibilities that were
opened to him in this seat of culture and learning fairly
appalled him when he contemplated the very infinitesimal
crumb of the sum total of human knowledge that a single
individual might hope to acquire even after a lifetime of
study and research; but he learned what he could by day,
and threw himself into a search for relaxation and amusement
at night.  Nor did he find Paris a whit less fertile field
for his nocturnal avocation.

If he smoked too many cigarettes and drank too much
absinth it was because he took civilization as he found it,
and did the things that he found his civilized brothers
doing.  The life was a new and alluring one, and in addition
he had a sorrow in his breast and a great longing which he
knew could never be fulfilled, and so he sought in study and
in dissipation--the two extremes--to forget the past and
inhibit contemplation of the future.

He was sitting in a music hall one evening, sipping his
absinth and admiring the art of a certain famous Russian
dancer, when he caught a passing glimpse of a pair of evil
black eyes upon him.  The man turned and was lost in the
crowd at the exit before Tarzan could catch a good look at
him, but he was confident that he had seen those eyes before
and that they had been fastened on him this evening
through no passing accident.  He had had the uncanny feeling
for some time that he was being watched, and it was in
response to this animal instinct that was strong within him
that he had turned suddenly and surprised the eyes in the
very act of watching him.

Before he left the music hall the matter had been forgotten,
nor did he notice the swarthy individual who stepped
deeper into the shadows of an opposite doorway as Tarzan
emerged from the brilliantly lighted amusement hall.

Had Tarzan but known it, he had been followed many times
from this and other places of amusement, but seldom if
ever had he been alone.  Tonight D'Arnot had had another
engagement, and Tarzan had come by himself.

As he turned in the direction he was accustomed to taking
from this part of Paris to his apartments, the watcher across
the street ran from his hiding-place and hurried on ahead
at a rapid pace.

Tarzan had been wont to traverse the Rue Maule on his
way home at night.  Because it was very quiet and very
dark it reminded him more of his beloved African jungle
than did the noisy and garish streets surrounding it.
If you are familiar with your Paris you will recall the
narrow, forbidding precincts of the Rue Maule.  If you are
not, you need but ask the police about it to learn that in
all Paris there is no street to which you should give a
wider berth after dark.

On this night Tarzan had proceeded some two squares through
the dense shadows of the squalid old tenements which line
this dismal way when he was attracted by screams and cries
for help from the third floor of an opposite building.
The voice was a woman's.  Before the echoes of her first
cries had died Tarzan was bounding up the stairs and
through the dark corridors to her rescue.

At the end of the corridor on the third landing a door
stood slightly ajar, and from within Tarzan heard again the
same appeal that had lured him from the street.
Another instant found him in the center of a dimly-lighted room.
An oil lamp burned upon a high, old-fashioned mantel, casting
its dim rays over a dozen repulsive figures.  All but one
were men.  The other was a woman of about thirty.  Her face,
marked by low passions and dissipation, might once have
been lovely.  She stood with one hand at her throat, crouching
against the farther wall.

"Help, monsieur," she cried in a low voice as Tarzan
entered the room; "they were killing me."

As Tarzan turned toward the men about him he saw the
crafty, evil faces of habitual criminals.  He wondered that
they had made no effort to escape.  A movement behind him
caused him to turn.  Two things his eyes saw, and one of
them caused him considerable wonderment.  A man was
sneaking stealthily from the room, and in the brief glance
that Tarzan had of him he saw that it was Rokoff.
But the other thing that he saw was of more immediate interest.
It was a great brute of a fellow tiptoeing upon him from
behind with a huge bludgeon in his hand, and then, as
the man and his confederates saw that he was discovered,
there was a concerted rush upon Tarzan from all sides.
Some of the men drew knives.  Others picked up chairs, while the
fellow with the bludgeon raised it high above his head in a
mighty swing that would have crushed Tarzan's head had it
ever descended upon it.

But the brain, and the agility, and the muscles that had coped
with the mighty strength and cruel craftiness of Terkoz and
Numa in the fastness of their savage jungle were not to be so
easily subdued as these apaches of Paris had believed.

Selecting his most formidable antagonist, the fellow with
the bludgeon, Tarzan charged full upon him, dodging the
falling weapon, and catching the man a terrific blow on the
point of the chin that felled him in his tracks.

Then he turned upon the others.  This was sport.  He was
reveling in the joy of battle and the lust of blood.  As though
it had been but a brittle shell, to break at the least rough
usage, the thin veneer of his civilization fell from him, and
the ten burly villains found themselves penned in a small
room with a wild and savage beast, against whose steel
muscles their puny strength was less than futile.

At the end of the corridor without stood Rokoff, waiting
the outcome of the affair.  He wished to be sure that Tarzan
was dead before he left, but it was not a part of his plan to
be one of those within the room when the murder occurred.

The woman still stood where she had when Tarzan entered,
but her face had undergone a number of changes with
the few minutes which had elapsed.  From the semblance of
distress which it had worn when Tarzan first saw it, it had
changed to one of craftiness as he had wheeled to meet the
attack from behind; but the change Tarzan had not seen.

Later an expression of surprise and then one of horror
superseded the others.  And who may wonder.  For the
immaculate gentleman her cries had lured to what was to have
been his death had been suddenly metamorphosed into a
demon of revenge.  Instead of soft muscles and a weak
resistance, she was looking upon a veritable Hercules gone mad.

"MON DIEU!" she cried; "he is a beast!"  For the strong,
white teeth of the ape-man had found the throat of one of
his assailants, and Tarzan fought as he had learned to fight
with the great bull apes of the tribe of Kerchak.

He was in a dozen places at once, leaping hither and
thither about the room in sinuous bounds that reminded
the woman of a panther she had seen at the zoo.  Now a wrist-
bone snapped in his iron grip, now a shoulder was wrenched
from its socket as he forced a victim's arm backward and upward.

With shrieks of pain the men escaped into the hallway as
quickly as they could; but even before the first one staggered,
bleeding and broken, from the room, Rokoff had seen enough
to convince him that Tarzan would not be the one to lie
dead in that house this night, and so the Russian had
hastened to a nearby den and telephoned the police that a
man was committing murder on the third floor of Rue Maule, 27.
When the officers arrived they found three men groaning
on the floor, a frightened woman lying upon a filthy bed, her
face buried in her arms, and what appeared to be a well-
dressed young gentleman standing in the center of the room
awaiting the reenforcements which he had thought the footsteps
of the officers hurrying up the stairway had announced
--but they were mistaken in the last; it was a wild beast
that looked upon them through those narrowed lids and steel-
gray eyes.  With the smell of blood the last vestige of
civilization had deserted Tarzan, and now he stood at bay, like a
lion surrounded by hunters, awaiting the next overt act, and
crouching to charge its author.

"What has happened here?" asked one of the policemen.

Tarzan explained briefly, but when he turned to the woman
for confirmation of his statement he was appalled by her reply.

"He lies!" she screamed shrilly, addressing the policeman.
"He came to my room while I was alone, and for no good
purpose.  When I repulsed him he would have killed me had
not my screams attracted these gentlemen, who were passing
the house at the time.  He is a devil, monsieurs; alone he has
all but killed ten men with his bare hands and his teeth."

So shocked was Tarzan by her ingratitude that for a moment
he was struck dumb.  The police were inclined to be a little
skeptical, for they had had other dealings with this
same lady and her lovely coterie of gentlemen friends.
However, they were policemen, not judges, so they decided to
place all the inmates of the room under arrest, and let another,
whose business it was, separate the innocent from the guilty.

But they found that it was one thing to tell this well-
dressed young man that he was under arrest, but quite
another to enforce it.

"I am guilty of no offense," he said quietly.  "I have but
sought to defend myself.  I do not know why the woman has
told you what she has.  She can have no enmity against me,
for never until I came to this room in response to her cries
for help had I seen her."

"Come, come," said one of the officers; "there are judges
to listen to all that," and he advanced to lay his hand upon
Tarzan's shoulder.  An instant later he lay crumpled in a
corner of the room, and then, as his comrades rushed in upon
the ape-man, they experienced a taste of what the apaches
had but recently gone through.  So quickly and so roughly
did he handle them that they had not even an opportunity
to draw their revolvers.

During the brief fight Tarzan had noted the open window
and, beyond, the stem of a tree, or a telegraph pole--he
could not tell which.  As the last officer went down, one of
his fellows succeeded in drawing his revolver and, from
where he lay on the floor, fired at Tarzan.  The shot missed,
and before the man could fire again Tarzan had swept the
lamp from the mantel and plunged the room into darkness.

The next they saw was a lithe form spring to the sill of
the open window and leap, panther-like, onto the pole across
the walk.  When the police gathered themselves together and
reached the street their prisoner was nowhere to be seen.

They did not handle the woman and the men who had
not escaped any too gently when they took them to the
station; they were a very sore and humiliated detail of police.
It galled them to think that it would be necessary to report
that a single unarmed man had wiped the floor with the
whole lot of them, and then escaped them as easily as
though they had not existed.

The officer who had remained in the street swore that no
one had leaped from the window or left the building from
the time they entered until they had come out.  His comrades
thought that he lied, but they could not prove it.

When Tarzan found himself clinging to the pole outside the
window, he followed his jungle instinct and looked below for
enemies before he ventured down.  It was well he did, for
just beneath stood a policeman.  Above, Tarzan saw no one,
so he went up instead of down.

The top of the pole was opposite the roof of the building,
so it was but the work of an instant for the muscles that
had for years sent him hurtling through the treetops of his
primeval forest to carry him across the little space between
the pole and the roof.  From one building he went to another,
and so on, with much climbing, until at a cross street he
discovered another pole, down which he ran to the ground.

For a square or two he ran swiftly; then he turned into a
little all-night cafe and in the lavatory removed the
evidences of his over-roof promenade from hands and clothes.
When he emerged a few moments later it was to saunter
slowly on toward his apartments.

Not far from them he came to a well-lighted boulevard which
it was necessary to cross.  As he stood directly beneath
a brilliant arc light, waiting for a limousine that was
approaching to pass him, he heard his name called in a sweet
feminine voice.  Looking up, he met the smiling eyes of Olga de
Coude as she leaned forward upon the back seat of the machine.
He bowed very low in response to her friendly greeting.
When he straightened up the machine had borne her away.

"Rokoff and the Countess de Coude both in the same
evening," he soliloquized; "Paris is not so large, after all."



Chapter 4


The Countess Explains


"Your Paris is more dangerous than my savage jungles,
Paul," concluded Tarzan, after narrating his adventures
to his friend the morning following his encounter with
the apaches and police in the Rue Maule.  "Why did they
lure me there?  Were they hungry?"

D'Arnot feigned a horrified shudder, but he laughed at the
quaint suggestion.

"It is difficult to rise above the jungle standards and reason
by the light of civilized ways, is it not, my friend?" he
queried banteringly.

"Civilized ways, forsooth," scoffed Tarzan.  "Jungle standards
do not countenance wanton atrocities.  There we kill for
food and for self-preservation, or in the winning of mates
and the protection of the young.  Always, you see, in
accordance with the dictates of some great natural law.
But here!  Faugh, your civilized man is more brutal than
the brutes.  He kills wantonly, and, worse than that, he
utilizes a noble sentiment, the brotherhood of man, as a
lure to entice his unwary victim to his doom.  It was in
answer to an appeal from a fellow being that I hastened
to that room where the assassins lay in wait for me.

"I did not realize, I could not realize for a long time
afterward, that any woman could sink to such moral depravity
as that one must have to call a would-be rescuer to death.
But it must have been so--the sight of Rokoff there and
the woman's later repudiation of me to the police make
it impossible to place any other construction upon her acts.
Rokoff must have known that I frequently passed through
the Rue Maule.  He lay in wait for me--his entire scheme
worked out to the last detail, even to the woman's story in
case a hitch should occur in the program such as really did
happen.  It is all perfectly plain to me."

"Well," said D'Arnot, "among other things, it has taught
you what I have been unable to impress upon you--that
the Rue Maule is a good place to avoid after dark."

"On the contrary," replied Tarzan, with a smile, "it has
convinced me that it is the one worth-while street in all
Paris.  Never again shall I miss an opportunity to traverse it,
for it has given me the first real entertainment I have had
since I left Africa."

"It may give you more than you will relish even without
another visit," said D'Arnot.  "You are not through with the
police yet, remember.  I know the Paris police well enough
to assure you that they will not soon forget what you did
to them.  Sooner or later they will get you, my dear Tarzan,
and then they will lock the wild man of the woods up behind
iron bars.  How will you like that?"

"They will never lock Tarzan of the Apes behind iron bars,"
replied he, grimly.

There was something in the man's voice as he said it that
caused D'Arnot to look up sharply at his friend.  What he
saw in the set jaw and the cold, gray eyes made the young
Frenchman very apprehensive for this great child, who could
recognize no law mightier than his own mighty physical
prowess.  He saw that something must be done to set Tarzan
right with the police before another encounter was possible.

"You have much to learn, Tarzan," he said gravely.  "The
law of man must be respected, whether you relish it or no.
Nothing but trouble can come to you and your friends
should you persist in defying the police.  I can explain it to
them once for you, and that I shall do this very day, but
hereafter you must obey the law.  If its representatives say
`Come,' you must come; if they say `Go,' you must go.
Now we shall go to my great friend in the department and
fix up this matter of the Rue Maule.  Come!"

Together they entered the office of the police official a half
hour later.  He was very cordial.  He remembered Tarzan from
the visit the two had made him several months prior in the
matter of finger prints.

When D'Arnot had concluded the narration of the events
which had transpired the previous evening, a grim smile was
playing about the lips of the policeman.  He touched a button
near his hand, and as he waited for the clerk to respond to
its summons he searched through the papers on his desk
for one which he finally located.

"Here, Joubon," he said as the clerk entered.  "Summon these
officers--have them come to me at once," and he handed the
man the paper he had sought.  Then he turned to Tarzan.

"You have committed a very grave offense, monsieur," he
said, not unkindly, "and but for the explanation made by
our good friend here I should be inclined to judge you harshly.
I am, instead, about to do a rather unheard-of-thing.
I have summoned the officers whom you maltreated last night.
They shall hear Lieutenant D'Arnot's story, and then I shall
leave it to their discretion to say whether you shall be
prosecuted or not.

"You have much to learn about the ways of civilization.
Things that seem strange or unnecessary to you, you must
learn to accept until you are able to judge the motives
behind them.  The officers whom you attacked were but doing
their duty.  They had no discretion in the matter.  Every day
they risk their lives in the protection of the lives or
property of others.  They would do the same for you.  They are
very brave men, and they are deeply mortified that a single
unarmed man bested and beat them.

"Make it easy for them to overlook what you did.
Unless I am gravely in error you are yourself a very
brave man, and brave men are proverbially magnanimous."

Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance
of the four policemen.  As their eyes fell on Tarzan,
surprise was writ large on each countenance.

"My children," said the official, "here is the gentleman
whom you met in the Rue Maule last evening.  He has come
voluntarily to give himself up.  I wish you to listen
attentively to Lieutenant D'Arnot, who will tell you a part
of the story of monsieur's life.  It may explain his attitude
toward you of last night.  Proceed, my dear lieutenant."

D'Arnot spoke to the policemen for half an hour.  He told
them something of Tarzan's wild jungle life.  He explained
the savage training that had taught him to battle like a
wild beast in self-preservation.  It became plain to them
that the man had been guided by instinct rather than reason in
his attack upon them.  He had not understood their intentions.
To him they had been little different from any of the various
forms of life he had been accustomed to in his native jungle,
where practically all were his enemies.

"Your pride has been wounded," said D'Arnot, in conclusion.
"It is the fact that this man overcame you that hurts the most.
But you need feel no shame.  You would not make apologies
for defeat had you been penned in that small room with an
African lion, or with the great Gorilla of the jungles.

"And yet you were battling with muscles that have time
and time again been pitted, and always victoriously, against
these terrors of the dark continent.  It is no disgrace to
fall beneath the superhuman strength of Tarzan of the Apes."

And then, as the men stood looking first at Tarzan and
then at their superior the ape-man did the one thing which
was needed to erase the last remnant of animosity which
they might have felt for him.  With outstretched hand he
advanced toward them.

"I am sorry for the mistake I made," he said simply.  "Let
us be friends."  And that was the end of the whole matter,
except that Tarzan became a subject of much conversation
in the barracks of the police, and increased the number of
his friends by four brave men at least.

On their return to D'Arnot's apartments the lieutenant
found a letter awaiting him from an English friend, William
Cecil Clayton, Lord Greystoke.  The two had maintained a
correspondence since the birth of their friendship on that
ill-fated expedition in search of Jane Porter after her theft
by Terkoz, the bull ape.

"They are to be married in London in about two months,"
said D'Arnot, as he completed his perusal of the letter.
Tarzan did not need to be told who was meant by "they."
He made no reply, but he was very quiet and thoughtful
during the balance of the day.

That evening they attended the opera.  Tarzan's mind was
still occupied by his gloomy thoughts.  He paid little or no
attention to what was transpiring upon the stage.  Instead he
saw only the lovely vision of a beautiful American girl, and
heard naught but a sad, sweet voice acknowledging that his
love was returned.  And she was to marry another!

He shook himself to be rid of his unwelcome thoughts, and
at the same instant he felt eyes upon him.  With the instinct
that was his by virtue of training he looked up squarely
into the eyes that were looking at him, to find that they
were shining from the smiling face of Olga, Countess de
Coude.  As Tarzan returned her bow he was positive that
there was an invitation in her look, almost a plea.
The next intermission found him beside her in her box.

"I have so much wished to see you," she was saying.
"It has troubled me not a little to think that after the
service you rendered to both my husband and myself no adequate
explanation was ever made you of what must have seemed
ingratitude on our part in not taking the necessary steps to
prevent a repetition of the attacks upon us by those two men."

"You wrong me," replied Tarzan.  "My thoughts of you
have been only the most pleasant.  You must not feel that
any explanation is due me.  Have they annoyed you further?"

"They never cease," she replied sadly.  "I feel that I must
tell some one, and I do not know another who so deserves
an explanation as you.  You must permit me to do so.  It may
be of service to you, for I know Nikolas Rokoff quite well
enough to be positive that you have not seen the last of him.
He will find some means to be revenged upon you.  What I
wish to tell you may be of aid to you in combating any
scheme of revenge he may harbor.  I cannot tell you here, but
tomorrow I shall be at home to Monsieur Tarzan at five."

"It will be an eternity until tomorrow at five," he said, as
he bade her good night.
From a corner of the theater Rokoff and Paulvitch saw
Monsieur Tarzan in the box of the Countess de Coude, and
both men smiled.

At four-thirty the following afternoon a swarthy, bearded
man rang the bell at the servants' entrance of the palace of
the Count de Coude.  The footman who opened the door raised
his eyebrows in recognition as he saw who stood without.
A low conversation passed between the two.

At first the footman demurred from some proposition
that the bearded one made, but an instant later something
passed from the hand of the caller to the hand of the
servant.  Then the latter turned and led the visitor by a
roundabout way to a little curtained alcove off the apartment
in which the countess was wont to serve tea of an afternoon.

A half hour later Tarzan was ushered into the room,
and presently his hostess entered, smiling, and with
outstretched hands.

"I am so glad that you came," she said.

"Nothing could have prevented," he replied.

For a few moments they spoke of the opera, of the topics
that were then occupying the attention of Paris, of the
pleasure of renewing their brief acquaintance which had had
its inception under such odd circumstances, and this brought
them to the subject that was uppermost in the minds of both.

"You must have wondered," said the countess finally, "what
the object of Rokoff's persecution could be.  It is very simple.
The count is intrusted with many of the vital secrets of the
ministry of war.  He often has in his possession papers that
foreign powers would give a fortune to possess--secrets
of state that their agents would commit murder and
worse than murder to learn.

"There is such a matter now in his possession that would
make the fame and fortune of any Russian who could
divulge it to his government.  Rokoff and Paulvitch are
Russian spies.  They will stop at nothing to procure this
information.  The affair on the liner--I mean the matter of the
card game--was for the purpose of blackmailing the knowledge
they seek from my husband.

"Had he been convicted of cheating at cards, his career
would have been blighted.  He would have had to leave the
war department.  He would have been socially ostracized.
They intended to hold this club over him--the price of an
avowal on their part that the count was but the victim of the
plot of enemies who wished to besmirch his name was to have
been the papers they seek.

"You thwarted them in this.  Then they concocted the
scheme whereby my reputation was to be the price, instead
of the count's.  When Paulvitch entered my cabin he explained
it to me.  If I would obtain the information for them
he promised to go no farther, otherwise Rokoff, who stood
without, was to notify the purser that I was entertaining a
man other than my husband behind the locked doors of my
cabin.  He was to tell every one he met on the boat, and
when we landed he was to have given the whole story to the
newspaper men.
"Was it not too horrible?  But I happened to know something
of Monsieur Paulvitch that would send him to the gallows
in Russia if it were known by the police of St. Petersburg.
I dared him to carry out his plan, and then I leaned
toward him and whispered a name in his ear.  Like that"--and
she snapped her fingers--"he flew at my throat as a madman.
He would have killed me had you not interfered."

"The brutes!" muttered Tarzan.

"They are worse than that, my friend," she said.
"They are devils.  I fear for you because you have gained
their hatred.  I wish you to be on your guard constantly.
Tell me that you will, for my sake, for I should never forgive
myself should you suffer through the kindness you did me."

"I do not fear them," he replied.  "I have survived grimmer
enemies than Rokoff and Paulvitch."  He saw that she knew
nothing of the occurrence in the Rue Maule, nor did he
mention it, fearing that it might distress her.

"For your own safety," he continued, "why do you not turn
the scoundrels over to the authorities?  They should make
quick work of them."

She hesitated for a moment before replying.

"There are two reasons," she said finally.  "One of them
it is that keeps the count from doing that very thing.
The other, my real reason for fearing to expose them, I have
never told--only Rokoff and I know it.  I wonder," and
then she paused, looking intently at him for a long time.

"And what do you wonder?" he asked, smiling.

"I was wondering why it is that I want to tell you the
thing that I have not dared tell even to my husband.
I believe that you would understand, and that you could tell
me the right course to follow.  I believe that you would not
judge me too harshly."

"I fear that I should prove a very poor judge, madame,"
Tarzan replied, "for if you had been guilty of murder I
should say that the victim should be grateful to have met
so sweet a fate."

"Oh, dear, no," she expostulated; "it is not so terrible as that.
But first let me tell you the reason the count has for not
prosecuting these men; then, if I can hold my courage, I
shall tell you the real reason that I dare not.  The first is
that Nikolas Rokoff is my brother.  We are Russians.
Nikolas has been a bad man since I can remember.  He was
cashiered from the Russian army, in which he held a captaincy.
There was a scandal for a time, but after a while it was
partially forgotten, and my father obtained a position for him
in the secret service.

"There have been many terrible crimes laid at Nikolas' door,
but he has always managed to escape punishment.  Of late
he has accomplished it by trumped-up evidence convicting
his victims of treason against the czar, and the Russian
police, who are always only too ready to fasten guilt of
this nature upon any and all, have accepted his version
and exonerated him."

"Have not his attempted crimes against you and your
husband forfeited whatever rights the bonds of kinship might
have accorded him?" asked Tarzan.  "The fact that you are his
sister has not deterred him from seeking to besmirch your honor.
You owe him no loyalty, madame."

"Ah, but there is that other reason.  If I owe him no loyalty
though he be my brother, I cannot so easily disavow the
fear I hold him in because of a certain episode in my life of
which he is cognizant.

"I might as well tell you all," she resumed after a pause,
"for I see that it is in my heart to tell you sooner or later.
I was educated in a convent.  While there I met a man whom
I supposed to be a gentleman.  I knew little or nothing about
men and less about love.  I got it into my foolish head that
I loved this man, and at his urgent request I ran away with him.
We were to have been married.

"I was with him just three hours.  All in the daytime and
in public places--railroad stations and upon a train.
When we reached our destination where we were to have been
married, two officers stepped up to my escort as we descended
from the train, and placed him under arrest.  They took me
also, but when I had told my story they did not detain me,
other than to send me back to the convent under the care of
a matron.  It seemed that the man who had wooed me was no
gentleman at all, but a deserter from the army as well as
a fugitive from civil justice.  He had a police record in
nearly every country in Europe.

"The matter was hushed up by the authorities of the convent.
Not even my parents knew of it.  But Nikolas met the man
afterward, and learned the whole story.  Now he threatens
to tell the count if I do not do just as he wishes me to."

Tarzan laughed.  "You are still but a little girl.  The story
that you have told me cannot reflect in any way upon your
reputation, and were you not a little girl at heart you would
know it.  Go to your husband tonight, and tell him the whole
story, just as you have told it to me.  Unless I am much mistaken
he will laugh at you for your fears, and take immediate steps
to put that precious brother of yours in prison
where he belongs."

"I only wish that I dared," she said; "but I am afraid.
I learned early to fear men.  First my father, then Nikolas,
then the fathers in the convent.  Nearly all my friends fear
their husbands--why should I not fear mine?"

"It does not seem right that women should fear men,"
said Tarzan, an expression of puzzlement on his face.
"I am better acquainted with the jungle folk, and there it
is more often the other way around, except among the black men,
and they to my mind are in most ways lower in the scale than
the beasts.  No, I cannot understand why civilized women
should fear men, the beings that are created to protect them.
I should hate to think that any woman feared me."

"I do not think that any woman would fear you, my friend,"
said Olga de Coude softly.  "I have known you but a short
while, yet though it may seem foolish to say it, you are
the only man I have ever known whom I think that I should
never fear--it is strange, too, for you are very strong.
I wondered at the ease with which you handled Nikolas and
Paulvitch that night in my cabin.  It was marvellous."
As Tarzan was leaving her a short time later he wondered
a little at the clinging pressure of her hand at parting,
and the firm insistence with which she exacted a promise
from him that he would call again on the morrow.

The memory of her half-veiled eyes and perfect lips as she
had stood smiling up into his face as he bade her good-by
remained with him for the balance of the day.  Olga de
Coude was a very beautiful woman, and Tarzan of the Apes
a very lonely young man, with a heart in him that was in
need of the doctoring that only a woman may provide.

As the countess turned back into the room after Tarzan's
departure, she found herself face to face with Nikolas Rokoff.

"How long have you been here?" she cried, shrinking away from him.

"Since before your lover came," he answered, with a nasty leer.

"Stop!" she commanded.  "How dare you say such a thing
to me--your sister!"

"Well, my dear Olga, if he is not your lover, accept my
apologies; but it is no fault of yours that he is not.
Had he one-tenth the knowledge of women that I have you
would be in his arms this minute.  He is a stupid fool, Olga.
Why, your every word and act was an open invitation to him,
and he had not the sense to see it."

The woman put her hands to her ears.

"I will not listen.  You are wicked to say such things as that.
No matter what you may threaten me with, you know that I
am a good woman.  After tonight you will not dare to annoy
me, for I shall tell Raoul all.  He will understand, and then,
Monsieur Nikolas, beware!"

"You shall tell him nothing," said Rokoff.  "I have this affair
now, and with the help of one of your servants whom I may trust
it will lack nothing in the telling when the time comes that the
details of the sworn evidence shall be poured into your husband's
ears.  The other affair served its purpose well--we now have
something tangible to work on, Olga.  A real AFFAIR--
and you a trusted wife.  Shame, Olga," and the brute laughed.

So the countess told her count nothing, and matters were
worse than they had been.  From a vague fear her mind was
transferred to a very tangible one.  It may be, too, that
conscience helped to enlarge it out of all proportion.



Chapter 5


The Plot That Failed


For a month Tarzan was a regular and very welcome
devotee at the shrine of the beautiful Countess de Coude.
Often he met other members of the select little coterie that
dropped in for tea of an afternoon.  More often Olga found
devices that would give her an hour of Tarzan alone.

For a time she had been frightened by what Nikolas had
insinuated.  She had not thought of this big, young man
as anything more than friend, but with the suggestion
implanted by the evil words of her brother she had grown to
speculate much upon the strange force which seemed to attract
her toward the gray-eyed stranger.  She did not wish to
love him, nor did she wish his love.

She was much younger than her husband, and without having
realized it she had been craving the haven of a friendship
with one nearer her own age.  Twenty is shy in exchanging
confidences with forty.  Tarzan was but two years
her senior.  He could understand her, she felt.  Then he was
clean and honorable and chivalrous.  She was not afraid of
him.  That she could trust him she had felt instinctively
from the first.

From a distance Rokoff had watched this growing intimacy
with malicious glee.  Ever since he had learned that
Tarzan knew that he was a Russian spy there had been
added to his hatred for the ape-man a great fear that he
would expose him.  He was but waiting now until the moment
was propitious for a master stroke.  He wanted to rid himself
forever of Tarzan, and at the same time reap an ample revenge
for the humiliations and defeats that he had suffered
at his hands.

Tarzan was nearer to contentment than he had been since
the peace and tranquility of his jungle had been broken in
upon by the advent of the marooned Porter party. He enjoyed
the pleasant social intercourse with Olga's friends, while
the friendship which had sprung up between the fair countess
and himself was a source of never-ending delight.  It broke
in upon and dispersed his gloomy thoughts, and served as a
balm to his lacerated heart.

Sometimes D'Arnot accompanied him on his visits to the
De Coude home, for he had long known both Olga and the
count.  Occasionally De Coude dropped in, but the
multitudinous affairs of his official position and the
never-ending demands of politics kept him from home
usually until late at night.

Rokoff spied upon Tarzan almost constantly, waiting for the
time that he should call at the De Coude palace at night,
but in this he was doomed to disappointment.  On several
occasions Tarzan accompanied the countess to her home
after the opera, but he invariably left her at the entrance
--much to the disgust of the lady's devoted brother.

Finding that it seemed impossible to trap Tarzan through
any voluntary act of his own, Rokoff and Paulvitch put their
heads together to hatch a plan that would trap the ape-man
in all the circumstantial evidence of a compromising position.

For days they watched the papers as well as the movements
of De Coude and Tarzan.  At length they were rewarded.
A morning paper made brief mention of a smoker that was
to be given on the following evening by the German minister.
De Coude's name was among those of the invited guests.
If he attended this meant that he would be absent from
his home until after midnight.

On the night of the banquet Paulvitch waited at the curb
before the residence of the German minister, where he could
scan the face of each guest that arrived.  He had not long
to wait before De Coude descended from his car and passed him.
That was enough.  Paulvitch hastened back to his quarters,
where Rokoff awaited him.  There they waited until after
eleven, then Paulvitch took down the receiver of their telephone.
He called a number.

"The apartments of Lieutenant D'Arnot?" he asked, when
he had obtained his connection.

"A message for Monsieur Tarzan, if he will be so kind as
to step to the telephone."

For a minute there was silence.

"Monsieur Tarzan?"

"Ah, yes, monsieur, this is Francois--in the service of
the Countess de Coude.  Possibly monsieur does poor Francois
the honor to recall him--yes?

"Yes, monsieur.  I have a message, an urgent message from
the countess.  She asks that you hasten to her at once--she
is in trouble, monsieur.

"No, monsieur, poor Francois does not know.  Shall I
tell madame that monsieur will be here shortly?

"Thank you, monsieur.  The good God will bless you."

Paulvitch hung up the receiver and turned to grin at Rokoff.

"It will take him thirty minutes to get there.  If you
reach the German minister's in fifteen, De Coude should arrive
at his home in about forty-five minutes.  It all depends
upon whether the fool will remain fifteen minutes after he
finds that a trick has been played upon him; but unless I am
mistaken Olga will be loath to let him go in so short a time
as that.  Here is the note for De Coude.  Hasten!"

Paulvitch lost no time in reaching the German minister's.
At the door he handed the note to a footman.  "This is for the
Count de Coude.  It is very urgent.  You must see that it is
placed in his hands at once," and he dropped a piece of silver
into the willing hand of the servant.  Then he returned
to his quarters.

A moment later De Coude was apologizing to his host as he
tore open the envelope.  What he read left his face white and
his hand trembling.

MONSIEUR LE COUNT DE COUDE:

One who wishes to save the honor of your name takes this
means to warn you that the sanctity of your home is this
minute in jeopardy.

A certain man who for months has been a constant visitor
there during your absence is now with your wife.  If
you go at once to your countess' boudoir you will find
them together.
                                                A FRIEND.


Twenty minutes after Paulvitch had called Tarzan, Rokoff
obtained a connection with Olga's private line.  Her maid
answered the telephone which was in the countess' boudoir.

"But madame has retired," said the maid, in answer to Rokoff's
request to speak with her.

"This is a very urgent message for the countess' ears
alone," replied Rokoff.  "Tell her that she must arise and
slip something about her and come to the telephone.  I shall
call up again in five minutes."  Then he hung up his receiver.
A moment later Paulvitch entered.

"The count has the message?" asked Rokoff.

"He should be on his way to his home by now," replied Paulvitch.

"Good!  My lady will be sitting in her boudoir, very much
in negligee, about now.  In a minute the faithful Jacques will
escort Monsieur Tarzan into her presence without announcing him.
It will take a few minutes for explanations.  Olga will
look very alluring in the filmy creation that is her night-
dress, and the clinging robe which but half conceals the
charms that the former does not conceal at all.  Olga will be
surprised, but not displeased.

"If there is a drop of red blood in the man the count
will break in upon a very pretty love scene in about fifteen
minutes from now.  I think we have planned marvelously, my
dear Alexis.  Let us go out and drink to the very good
health of Monsieur Tarzan in some of old Plancon's
unparalleled absinth; not forgetting that the Count de Coude
is one of the best swordsmen in Paris, and by far the best
shot in all France."

When Tarzan reached Olga's, Jacques was awaiting him at
the entrance.

"This way, Monsieur," he said, and led the way up the broad,
marble staircase.  In another moment he had opened a door,
and, drawing aside a heavy curtain, obsequiously bowed
Tarzan into a dimly lighted apartment.  Then Jacques vanished.

Across the room from him Tarzan saw Olga seated before
a little desk on which stood her telephone.  She was tapping
impatiently upon the polished surface of the desk.  She had
not heard him enter.

"Olga," he said, "what is wrong?"

She turned toward him with a little cry of alarm.

"Jean!" she cried.  "What are you doing here?
Who admitted you?  What does it mean?"

Tarzan was thunderstruck, but in an instant he realized
a part of the truth.

"Then you did not send for me, Olga?"

"Send for you at this time of night?  MON DIEU!  Jean, do
you think that I am quite mad?"

"Francois telephoned me to come at once; that you were
in trouble and wanted me."

"Francois?  Who in the world is Francois?"

"He said that he was in your service.  He spoke as though
I should recall the fact."

"There is no one by that name in my employ.  Some one
has played a joke upon you, Jean," and Olga laughed.

"I fear that it may be a most sinister `joke,' Olga," he replied.
"There is more back of it than humor."

"What do you mean?  You do not think that--"

"Where is the count?" he interrupted.

"At the German ambassador's."

"This is another move by your estimable brother.
Tomorrow the count will hear of it.  He will question
the servants.  Everything will point to--to what Rokoff
wishes the count to think."

"The scoundrel!" cried Olga.  She had arisen, and come close
to Tarzan, where she stood looking up into his face.
She was very frightened.  In her eyes was an expression that the
hunter sees in those of a poor, terrified doe--puzzled--questioning.
She trembled, and to steady herself raised her hands to his
broad shoulders.  "What shall we do, Jean?" she whispered.
"It is terrible.  Tomorrow all Paris will read of
it--he will see to that."

Her look, her attitude, her words were eloquent of the age-
old appeal of defenseless woman to her natural protector--man.
Tarzan took one of the warm little hands that lay on his
breast in his own strong one.  The act was quite involuntary,
and almost equally so was the instinct of protection that
threw a sheltering arm around the girl's shoulders.

The result was electrical.  Never before had he been so close
to her.  In startled guilt they looked suddenly into each
other's eyes, and where Olga de Coude should have been
strong she was weak, for she crept closer into the man's arms,
and clasped her own about his neck.  And Tarzan of the Apes?
He took the panting figure into his mighty arms, and covered
the hot lips with kisses.

Raoul de Coude made hurried excuses to his host after he
had read the note handed him by the ambassador's butler.
Never afterward could he recall the nature of the excuses
he made.  Everything was quite a blur to him up to the
time that he stood on the threshold of his own home.
Then he became very cool, moving quietly and with caution.
For some inexplicable reason Jacques had the door open before
he was halfway to the steps.  It did not strike him at the
time as being unusual, though afterward he remarked it.

Very softly he tiptoed up the stairs and along the gallery
to the door of his wife's boudoir.  In his hand was a
heavy walking stick--in his heart, murder.

Olga was the first to see him.  With a horrified shriek she
tore herself from Tarzan's arms, and the ape-man turned just
in time to ward with his arm a terrific blow that De Coude
had aimed at his head.  Once, twice, three times the heavy
stick fell with lightning rapidity, and each blow aided in the
transition of the ape-man back to the primordial.

With the low, guttural snarl of the bull ape he sprang for
the Frenchman.  The great stick was torn from his grasp and
broken in two as though it had been matchwood, to be flung aside
as the now infuriated beast charged for his adversary's throat.
Olga de Coude stood a horrified spectator of the terrible
scene which ensued during the next brief moment, then
she sprang to where Tarzan was murdering her husband--
choking the life from him--shaking him as a terrier might
shake a rat.

Frantically she tore at his great hands.  "Mother of
God!" she cried.  "You are killing him, you are killing him!
Oh, Jean, you are killing my husband!"

Tarzan was deaf with rage.  Suddenly he hurled the body
to the floor, and, placing his foot upon the upturned breast,
raised his head.  Then through the palace of the Count de
Coude rang the awesome challenge of the bull ape that has
made a kill.  From cellar to attic the horrid sound searched
out the servants, and left them blanched and trembling.
The woman in the room sank to her knees beside the body
of her husband, and prayed.

Slowly the red mist faded from before Tarzan's eyes.
Things began to take form--he was regaining the perspective of
civilized man.  His eyes fell upon the figure of the kneeling woman.
"Olga," he whispered.  She looked up, expecting to see the
maniacal light of murder in the eyes above her.
Instead she saw sorrow and contrition.

"Oh, Jean!" she cried.  "See what you have done.  He was
my husband.  I loved him, and you have killed him."

Very gently Tarzan raised the limp form of the Count de
Coude and bore it to a couch.  Then he put his ear to the
man's breast.

"Some brandy, Olga," he said.

She brought it, and together they forced it between his lips.
Presently a faint gasp came from the white lips.
The head turned, and De Coude groaned.

"He will not die," said Tarzan.  "Thank God!"

"Why did you do it, Jean?" she asked.

"I do not know.  He struck me, and I went mad.  I have
seen the apes of my tribe do the same thing.  I have never
told you my story, Olga.  It would have been better had you
known it--this might not have happened.  I never saw my father.
The only mother I knew was a ferocious she-ape. Until I was
fifteen I had never seen a human being.  I was twenty before
I saw a white man.  A little more than a year ago I was a
naked beast of prey in an African jungle.

"Do not judge me too harshly.  Two years is too short a time
in which to attempt to work the change in an individual that
it has taken countless ages to accomplish in the white race."

"I do not judge at all, Jean.  The fault is mine.
You must go now--he must not find you here when he
regains consciousness.  Good-by."

It was a sorrowful Tarzan who walked with bowed head
from the palace of the Count de Coude.

Once outside his thoughts took definite shape, to the end
that twenty minutes later he entered a police station not
far from the Rue Maule.  Here he soon found one of the
officers with whom he had had the encounter several weeks
previous.  The policeman was genuinely glad to see again
the man who had so roughly handled him.  After a moment
of conversation Tarzan asked if he had ever heard of
Nikolas Rokoff or Alexis Paulvitch.

"Very often, indeed, monsieur.  Each has a police record,
and while there is nothing charged against them now, we
make it a point to know pretty well where they may be found
should the occasion demand.  It is only the same precaution
that we take with every known criminal.  Why does monsieur ask?"

"They are known to me," replied Tarzan.  "I wish to see
Monsieur Rokoff on a little matter of business.  If you can
direct me to his lodgings I shall appreciate it."

A few minutes later he bade the policeman adieu, and,
with a slip of paper in his pocket bearing a certain address
in a semirespectable quarter, he walked briskly toward the
nearest taxi stand.

Rokoff and Paulvitch had returned to their rooms, and were
sitting talking over the probable outcome of the evening's
events.  They had telephoned to the offices of two of the
morning papers from which they momentarily expected
representatives to hear the first report of the scandal
that was to stir social Paris on the morrow.

A heavy step sounded on the stairway.  "Ah, but these
newspaper men are prompt," exclaimed Rokoff, and as a knock
fell upon the door of their room:  "Enter, monsieur."

The smile of welcome froze upon the Russian's face as
he looked into the hard, gray eyes of his visitor.

"Name of a name!" he shouted, springing to his feet,
"What brings you here!"

"Sit down!" said Tarzan, so low that the men could barely
catch the words, but in a tone that brought Rokoff to his
chair, and kept Paulvitch in his.

"You know what has brought me here," he continued, in
the same low tone.  "It should be to kill you, but because
you are Olga de Coude's brother I shall not do that--now.

"I shall give you a chance for your lives.  Paulvitch does
not count much--he is merely a stupid, foolish little tool,
and so I shall not kill him so long as I permit you to live.
Before I leave you two alive in this room you will have done
two things.  The first will be to write a full confession of
your connection with tonight's plot--and sign it.

"The second will be to promise me upon pain of death that you
will permit no word of this affair to get into the newspapers.
If you do not do both, neither of you will be alive when I
pass next through that doorway.  Do you understand?"
And, without waiting for a reply:  "Make haste; there is ink
before you, and paper and a pen."

Rokoff assumed a truculent air, attempting by bravado to
show how little he feared Tarzan's threats.  An instant later
he felt the ape-man's steel fingers at his throat, and Paulvitch,
who attempted to dodge them and reach the door, was
lifted completely off the floor, and hurled senseless into a
corner.  When Rokoff commenced to blacken about the face
Tarzan released his hold and shoved the fellow back into
his chair.  After a moment of coughing Rokoff sat sullenly
glaring at the man standing opposite him.  Presently Paulvitch
came to himself, and limped painfully back to his chair
at Tarzan's command.

"Now write," said the ape-man.  "If it is necessary to handle
you again I shall not be so lenient."

Rokoff picked up a pen and commenced to write.

"See that you omit no detail, and that you mention every
name," cautioned Tarzan.

Presently there was a knock at the door.  "Enter," said Tarzan.

A dapper young man came in.  "I am from the MATIN,"
he announced.  "I understand that Monsieur Rokoff has
a story for me."

"Then you are mistaken, monsieur," replied Tarzan.
"You have no story for publication, have you, my dear Nikolas."

Rokoff looked up from his writing with an ugly scowl
upon his face.

"No," he growled, "I have no story for publication--now."

"Nor ever, my dear Nikolas," and the reporter did not see
the nasty light in the ape-man's eye; but Nikolas Rokoff did.

"Nor ever," he repeated hastily.

"It is too bad that monsieur has been troubled," said Tarzan,
turning to the newspaper man.  "I bid monsieur good
evening," and he bowed the dapper young man out of the
room, and closed the door in his face.

An hour later Tarzan, with a rather bulky manuscript in his
coat pocket, turned at the door leading from Rokoff's room.

"Were I you I should leave France," he said, "for sooner
or later I shall find an excuse to kill you that will not in
any way compromise your sister."



Chapter 6


A Duel


D'Arnot was asleep when Tarzan entered their apartments
after leaving Rokoff's.  Tarzan did not disturb him, but
the following morning he narrated the happenings of
the previous evening, omitting not a single detail.

"What a fool I have been," he concluded.  "De Coude and
his wife were both my friends.  How have I returned their
friendship?  Barely did I escape murdering the count.  I have
cast a stigma on the name of a good woman.  It is very probable
that I have broken up a happy home."

"Do you love Olga de Coude?" asked D'Arnot.

"Were I not positive that she does not love me I could not
answer your question, Paul; but without disloyalty to her I
tell you that I do not love her, nor does she love me.  For an
instant we were the victims of a sudden madness--it was not
love--and it would have left us, unharmed, as suddenly as
it had come upon us even though De Coude had not returned.
As you know, I have had little experience of women.  Olga
de Coude is very beautiful; that, and the dim light and the
seductive surroundings, and the appeal of the defenseless for
protection, might have been resisted by a more civilized
man, but my civilization is not even skin deep--it does not go
deeper than my clothes.

"Paris is no place for me.  I will but continue to stumble
into more and more serious pitfalls.  The man-made
restrictions are irksome.  I feel always that I am a prisoner.
I cannot endure it, my friend, and so I think that I shall go
back to my own jungle, and lead the life that God intended
that I should lead when He put me there."

"Do not take it so to heart, Jean," responded D'Arnot.
"You have acquitted yourself much better than most
`civilized' men would have under similar circumstances.
As to leaving Paris at this time, I rather think that
Raoul de Coude may be expected to have something to say
on that subject before long."

Nor was D'Arnot mistaken.  A week later on Monsieur Flaubert
was announced about eleven in the morning, as D'Arnot and
Tarzan were breakfasting.  Monsieur Flaubert was an
impressively polite gentleman.  With many low bows he delivered
Monsieur le Count de Coude's challenge to Monsieur Tarzan.
Would monsieur be so very kind as to arrange to have
a friend meet Monsieur Flaubert at as early an hour as
convenient, that the details might be arranged to the mutual
satisfaction of all concerned?

Certainly.  Monsieur Tarzan would be delighted to place
his interests unreservedly in the hands of his friend,
Lieutenant D'Arnot.  And so it was arranged that D'Arnot
was to call on Monsieur Flaubert at two that afternoon,
and the polite Monsieur Flaubert, with many bows, left them.

When they were again alone D'Arnot looked quizzically at Tarzan.

"Well?" he said.

"Now to my sins I must add murder, or else myself be killed,"
said Tarzan.  "I am progressing rapidly in the ways of
my civilized brothers."

"What weapons shall you select?" asked D'Arnot.
"De Coude is accredited with being a master with the sword,
and a splendid shot."

"I might then choose poisoned arrows at twenty paces,
or spears at the same distance," laughed Tarzan.
"Make it pistols, Paul."

"He will kill you, Jean."

"I have no doubt of it," replied Tarzan.  "I must die some day."

"We had better make it swords," said D'Arnot.  "He will be
satisfied with wounding you, and there is less danger of a
mortal wound."
"Pistols," said Tarzan, with finality.

D'Arnot tried to argue him out of it, but without avail,
so pistols it was.

D'Arnot returned from his conference with Monsieur Flaubert
shortly after four.

"It is all arranged," he said.  "Everything is satisfactory.
Tomorrow morning at daylight--there is a secluded spot on
the road not far from Etamps.  For some personal reason
Monsieur Flaubert preferred it.  I did not demur."

"Good!" was Tarzan's only comment.  He did not refer to
the matter again even indirectly.  That night he wrote several
letters before he retired.  After sealing and addressing them
he placed them all in an envelope addressed to D'Arnot.
As he undressed D'Arnot heard him humming a music-hall ditty.

The Frenchman swore under his breath.  He was very unhappy,
for he was positive that when the sun rose the next
morning it would look down upon a dead Tarzan.  It grated
upon him to see Tarzan so unconcerned.

"This is a most uncivilized hour for people to kill each
other," remarked the ape-man when he had been routed out of
a comfortable bed in the blackness of the early morning hours.
He had slept well, and so it seemed that his head scarcely
touched the pillow ere his man deferentially aroused him.
His remark was addressed to D'Arnot, who stood fully
dressed in the doorway of Tarzan's bedroom.

D'Arnot had scarcely slept at all during the night.  He was
nervous, and therefore inclined to be irritable.

"I presume you slept like a baby all night," he said.

Tarzan laughed.  "From your tone, Paul, I infer that you
rather harbor the fact against me.  I could not help it, really."

"No, Jean; it is not that," replied D'Arnot, himself
smiling.  "But you take the entire matter with such
infernal indifference--it is exasperating.  One would
think that you were going out to shoot at a target,
rather than to face one of the best shots in France."

Tarzan shrugged his shoulders.  "I am going out to expiate
a great wrong, Paul.  A very necessary feature of the expiation
is the marksmanship of my opponent.  Wherefore, then, should
I be dissatisfied?  Have you not yourself told me that Count
de Coude is a splendid marksman?"

"You mean that you hope to be killed?" exclaimed D'Arnot,
in horror.

"I cannot say that I hope to be; but you must admit that
there is little reason to believe that I shall not be killed."

Had D'Arnot known the thing that was in the ape-man's
mind--that had been in his mind almost from the first
intimation that De Coude would call him to account on the
field of honor--he would have been even more horrified than
he was.

In silence they entered D'Arnot's great car, and in
similar silence they sped over the dim road that leads
to Etamps.  Each man was occupied with his own thoughts.
D'Arnot's were very mournful, for he was genuinely fond
of Tarzan.  The great friendship which had sprung up between
these two men whose lives and training had been so widely
different had but been strengthened by association, for
they were both men to whom the same high ideals of manhood,
of personal courage, and of honor appealed with equal force.
They could understand one another, and each could be proud
of the friendship of the other.

Tarzan of the Apes was wrapped in thoughts of the past;
pleasant memories of the happier occasions of his lost
jungle life.  He recalled the countless boyhood hours that
he had spent cross-legged upon the table in his dead father's
cabin, his little brown body bent over one of the fascinating
picture books from which, unaided, he had gleaned the secret
of the printed language long before the sounds of
human speech fell upon his ears.  A smile of contentment
softened his strong face as he thought of that day of days
that he had had alone with Jane Porter in the heart of his
primeval forest.

Presently his reminiscences were broken in upon by the
stopping of the car--they were at their destination.
Tarzan's mind returned to the affairs of the moment.
He knew that he was about to die, but there was no fear of
death in him.  To a denizen of the cruel jungle death is
a commonplace.  The first law of nature compels them to
cling tenaciously to life--to fight for it; but it does
not teach them to fear death.

D'Arnot and Tarzan were first upon the field of honor.  A
moment later De Coude, Monsieur Flaubert, and a third
gentleman arrived.  The last was introduced to D'Arnot and
Tarzan; he was a physician.

D'Arnot and Monsieur Flaubert spoke together in whispers
for a brief time.  The Count de Coude and Tarzan stood apart
at opposite sides of the field.  Presently the seconds
summoned them.  D'Arnot and Monsieur Flaubert had examined
both pistols.  The two men who were to face each other a
moment later stood silently while Monsieur Flaubert recited
the conditions they were to observe.

They were to stand back to back.  At a signal from Monsieur
Flaubert they were to walk in opposite directions,
their pistols hanging by their sides.  When each had proceeded
ten paces D'Arnot was to give the final signal--then they
were to turn and fire at will until one fell, or each had
expended the three shots al