iscovered a massive ring which had evidently encircled the man's
finger at the time of his death, for one of the slender bones of the
hand still lay within the golden bauble.

Picking it up to examine it, Clayton gave a cry of astonishment, for
the ring bore the crest of the house of Greystoke.

At the same time, Jane discovered the books in the cupboard, and on
opening the fly-leaf of one of them saw the name, JOHN CLAYTON, LONDON.
In a second book which she hurriedly examined was the single name,
GREYSTOKE.

"Why, Mr. Clayton," she cried, "what does this mean? Here are the
names of some of your own people in these books."

"And here," he replied gravely, "is the great ring of the house of
Greystoke which has been lost since my uncle, John Clayton, the former
Lord Greystoke, disappeared, presumably lost at sea."

"But how do you account for these things being here, in this savage
African jungle?" exclaimed the girl.

"There is but one way to account for it, Miss Porter," said Clayton.
"The late Lord Greystoke was not drowned. He died here in this cabin
and this poor thing upon the floor is all that is mortal of him."

"Then this must have been Lady Greystoke," said Jane reverently,
indicating the poor mass of bones upon the bed.

"The beautiful Lady Alice," replied Clayton, "of whose many virtues and
remarkable personal charms I often have heard my mother and father
speak. Poor woman," he murmured sadly.

With deep reverence and solemnity the bodies of the late Lord and Lady
Greystoke were buried beside their little African cabin, and between
them was placed the tiny skeleton of the baby of Kala, the ape.

As Mr. Philander was placing the frail bones of the infant in a bit of
sail cloth, he examined the skull minutely. Then he called Professor
Porter to his side, and the two argued in low tones for several minutes.

"Most remarkable, most remarkable," said Professor Porter.

"Bless me," said Mr. Philander, "we must acquaint Mr. Clayton with our
discovery at once."

"Tut, tut, Mr. Philander, tut, tut!" remonstrated Professor Archimedes
Q. Porter. "'Let the dead past bury its dead.'"

And so the white-haired old man repeated the burial service over this
strange grave, while his four companions stood with bowed and uncovered
heads about him.

From the trees Tarzan of the Apes watched the solemn ceremony; but most
of all he watched the sweet face and graceful figure of Jane Porter.

In his savage, u