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 t