Then at last the long journey drew to its close and he was passing
through the last stretch of heavy forest that bounded his estate
upon the east, and then this was traversed and he stood upon the
plain's edge looking out across his broad lands towards his home.

At the first glance his eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed. Even
at that distance he could see that something was amiss. A thin
spiral of smoke arose at the right of the bungalow where the barns
had stood, but there were no barns there now, and from the bungalow
chimney from which smoke should have arisen, there arose nothing.

Once again Tarzan of the Apes was speeding onward, this time even
more swiftly than before, for he was goaded now by a nameless fear,
more product of intuition than of reason. Even as the beasts,
Tarzan of the Apes seemed to possess a sixth sense. Long before he
reached the bungalow, he had almost pictured the scene that finally
broke upon his view.

Silent and deserted was the vine-covered cottage. Smoldering embers
marked the site of his great barns. Gone were the thatched huts of
his sturdy retainers, empty the fields, the pastures, and corrals.
Here and there vultures rose and circled above the carcasses of
men and beasts.

It was with a feeling as nearly akin to terror as he ever had
experienced that the ape-man finally forced himself to enter his
home. The first sight that met his eyes set the red haze of hate
and bloodlust across his vision, for there, crucified against the
wall of the living-room, was Wasimbu, giant son of the faithful
Muviro and for over a year the personal bodyguard of Lady Jane.

The overturned and shattered furniture of the room, the brown pools
of dried blood upon the floor, and prints of bloody hands on walls
and woodwork evidenced something of the frightfulness of the battle
that had been waged within the narrow confines of the apartment.
Across the baby grand piano lay the corpse of another black warrior,
while before the door of Lady Jane's boudoir were the dead bodies
of three more of the faithful Greystoke servants.

The door of this room was closed. With drooping shoulders and dull
eyes Tarzan stood gazing dumbly at the insensate panel which hid
from him what horrid secret he dared not even guess.

Slowly, with leaden feet, he moved toward the door. Gropingly his
hand reached for the knob. Thus he stood for another long minute,
and then with a sudden gesture he straightened his giant fra