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admitted that you love me. You know that I love you; but I do not know the ethics of society by which you are governed. I shall leave the decision to you, for you know best what will be for your eventual welfare."

      "I cannot tell him, Tarzan," she said. "He too, loves me, and he is a good man. I could never face you nor any other honest person if I repudiated my promise to Mr. Clayton. I shall have to keep it—and you must help me bear the burden, though we may not see each other again after tonight."

      The others were entering the room now and Tarzan turned toward the little window.

      But he saw nothing outside—within he saw a patch of greensward surrounded by a matted mass of gorgeous tropical plants and flowers, and, above, the waving foliage of mighty trees, and, over all, the blue of an equatorial sky.

      In the center of the greensward a young woman sat upon a little mound of earth, and beside her sat a young giant. They ate pleasant fruit and looked into each other's eyes and smiled. They were very happy, and they were all alone.

      His thoughts were broken in upon by the station agent who entered asking if there was a gentleman by the name of Tarzan in the party.

      "I am Monsieur Tarzan," said the ape-man.

      "Here is a message for you, forwarded from Baltimore; it is a cablegram from Paris."

      Tarzan took the envelope and tore it open. The message was from D'Arnot.

      It read:

      Fingerprints prove you Greystoke. Congratulations.

       D'ARNOT.

      As Tarzan finished reading, Clayton entered and came toward him with extended hand.

      Here was the man who had Tarzan's title, and Tarzan's estates, and was going to marry the woman whom Tarzan loved—the woman who loved Tarzan. A single word from Tarzan would make a great difference in this man's life.

      It would take away his title and his lands and his castles, and—it would take them away from Jane Porter also. "I say, old man," cried Clayton, "I haven't had a chance to thank you for all you've done for us. It seems as though you had your hands full saving our lives in Africa and here.

      "I'm awfully glad you came on here. We must get better acquainted. I often thought about you, you know, and the remarkable circumstances of your environment.

      "If it's any of my business, how the devil did you ever get into that bally jungle?"

      "I was born there," said Tarzan, quietly. "My mother was an Ape, and of course she couldn't tell me much about it. I never knew who my father was."

      THE RETURN OF TARZAN

       Table of Contents

       Chapter I. The Affair on the Liner

       Chapter II. Forging Bonds of Hate And—?

       Chapter III. What Happened in the Rue Maule

       Chapter IV. The Countess Explains

       Chapter V. The Plot That Failed

       Chapter VI. A Duel

       Chapter VII. The Dancing Girl of Sidi Aissa

       Chapter VIII. The Fight in the Desert

       Chapter IX. Numa "El Adrea"

       Chapter X. Through the Valley of the Shadow

       Chapter XI. John Caldwell, London

       Chapter XII. Ships That Pass

       Chapter XIII. The Wreck of the "Lady Alice"

       Chapter XIV. Back to the Primitive

       Chapter XV. From Ape to Savage

       Chapter XVI. The Ivory Raiders

       Chapter XVII. The White Chief of the Waziri

       Chapter XVIII. The Lottery of Death

       Chapter XIX. The City of Gold

       Chapter XX. La

       Chapter XXI. The Castaways

       Chapter XXII. The Treasure Vaults of Opar

       Chapter XXIII. The Fifty Frightful Men

       Chapter XXIV. How Tarzan Came Again to Opar

       Chapter XXV. Through the Forest Primeval

       Chapter XXVI. The Passing of the Ape-Man

      Chapter I.

       The Affair on the Liner

       Table of Contents

      "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

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