The killing of the friendless old Russian, Michael Sabrov,by his great trained ape, was a matter for newspaper commentfor a few days. Lord Greystoke read of it, and while takingspecial precautions not to permit his name to become connectedwith the affair, kept himself well posted as to the police searchfor the anthropoid.

As was true of the general public, his chief interest in thematter centered about the mysterious disappearance of the slayer.Or at least this was true until he learned, several days subsequentto the tragedy, that his son Jack had not reported at the publicschool en route for which they had seen him safely ensconcedin a railway carriage. Even then the father did not connect thedisappearance of his son with the mystery surrounding thewhereabouts of the ape. Nor was it until a month later thatcareful investigation revealed the fact that the boy had left thetrain before it pulled out of the station at London, and the cabdriver had been found who had driven him to the address of theold Russian, that Tarzan of the Apes realized that Akut had insome way been connected with the disappearance of the boy.

Beyond the moment that the cab driver had deposited his farebeside the curb in front of the house in which the Russian hadbeen quartered there was no clue. No one had seen either theboy or the ape from that instant--at least no one who still lived. The proprietor of the house identified the picture of the lad asthat of one who had been a frequent visitor in the room of theold man. Aside from this he knew nothing. And there, at thedoor of a grimy, old building in the slums of London, thesearchers came to a blank wall--baffled.

The day following the death of Alexis Paulvitch a youthaccompanying his invalid grandmother, boarded a steamer at Dover. The old lady was heavily veiled, and so weakened by age andsickness that she had to be wheeled aboard the vessel in aninvalid chair.

The boy would permit none but himself to wheel her, andwith his own hands assisted her from the chair to the interior oftheir stateroom--and that was the last that was seen of the oldlady by the ship's company until the pair disembarked. The boyeven insisted upon doing the work of their cabin steward, since,as he explained, his grandmother was suffering from a nervousdisposition that made the presence of strangers extremelydistasteful to her.

Outside the cabin--and none there was aboard who knew what hedid in the cabin--the lad was just as any other healthy, normalEnglish boy might have been. He mingled with his fellow passengers,became a prime favorite with the officers, and struck up numerousfriendships among the common sailors. He was generous andunaffected, yet carried an air of dignity and strength ofcharacter that inspired his many new friends with admirationas well as affection for him.

Among the passengers there was an American named Condon, a notedblackleg and crook who was "wanted" in a half dozen of the largercities of the United States. He had paid little attention to theboy until on one occasion he had seen him accidentally displaya roll of bank notes. From then on Condon cultivated theyouthful Briton. He learned, easily, that the boy was travelingalone with his invalid grandmother, and that their destinationwas a small port on the west coast of Africa, a little below theequator; that their name was Billings, and that they had nofriends in the little settlement for which they were bound. Upon the point of their purpose in visiting the place Condonfound the boy reticent, and so he did not push the matter--hehad learned all that he cared to know as it was.

Several times Condon attempted to draw the lad into a cardgame; but his victim was not interested, and the black looksof several of the other men passengers decided the American tofind other means of transferring the boy's bank roll to hisown pocket.

At last came the day that the steamer dropped anchor in thelee of a wooded promontory where a score or more of sheet-iron shacks making an unsightly blot upon the fair face ofnature proclaimed the fact that civilization had set its heel. Straggling upon the outskirts were the thatched huts of natives,picturesque in their primeval savagery, harmonizing with thebackground of tropical jungle and accentuating the squalidhideousness of the white man's pioneer architecture.

The boy, leaning over the rail, was looking far beyond theman-made town deep into the God-made jungle. A little shiverof anticipation tingled his spine, and then, quite withoutvolition, he found himself gazing into the loving eyes of hismother and the strong face of the father which mirrored, beneathits masculine strength, a love no less than the mother'seyes proclaimed. He felt himself weakening in his resolve. Nearby one of the ship's officers was shouting orders to aflotilla of native boats that was approaching to lighter theconsignment of the steamer's cargo destined for this tiny post.

"When does the next steamer for England touch here?" theboy asked.

"The Emanuel ought to be along most any time now,"replied the officer. "I figgered we'd find her here,"and he went on with his bellowing remarks to the dustyhorde drawing close to the steamer's side.

The task of lowering the boy's grandmother over the side toa waiting canoe was rather difficult. The lad insisted on beingalways at her side, and when at last she was safely ensconced inthe bottom of the craft that was to bear them shoreward hergrandson dropped catlike after her. So interested was he in seeingher comfortably disposed that he failed to notice the littlepackage that had worked from his pocket as he assisted in loweringthe sling that contained the old woman over the steamer's side,nor did he notice it even as it slipped out entirely and droppedinto the sea.

Scarcely had the boat containing the boy and the old womanstarted for the shore than Condon hailed a canoe upon the otherside of the ship, and after bargaining with its owner finallylowered his baggage and himself aboard. Once ashore he kept outof sight of the two-story atrocity that bore the legend "Hotel"to lure unsuspecting wayfarers to its multitudinous discomforts. It was quite dark before he ventured to enter and arrange foraccommodations.

In a back room upon the second floor the lad was explaining,not without considerable difficulty, to his grandmother that hehad decided to return to England upon the next steamer. He wasendeavoring to make it plain to the old lady that she might remainin Africa if she wished but that for his part his consciencedemanded that he return to his father and mother, who doubtlesswere even now suffering untold sorrow because of his absence;from which it may be assumed that his parents had not beenacquainted with the plans that he and the old lady had made fortheir adventure into African wilds.

Having come to a decision the lad felt a sense of relief fromthe worry that had haunted him for many sleepless nights. When heclosed his eyes in sleep it was to dream of a happy reunion withthose at home. And as he dreamed, Fate, cruel and inexorable,crept stealthily upon him through the dark corridor of the squalidbuilding in which he slept--Fate in the form of the Americancrook, Condon.

Cautiously the man approached the door of the lad's room.There he crouched listening until assured by the regularbreathing of those within that both slept. Quietly heinserted a slim, skeleton key in the lock of the door. With deft fingers, long accustomed to the silent manipulationof the bars and bolts that guarded other men's property, Condonturned the key and the knob simultaneously. Gentle pressureupon the door swung it slowly inward upon its hinges. The manentered the room, closing the door behind him. The moon wastemporarily overcast by heavy clouds. The interior of theapartment was shrouded in gloom. Condon groped his way towardthe bed. In the far corner of the room something moved--movedwith a silent stealthiness which transcended even the trainedsilence of the burglar. Condon heard nothing. His attentionwas riveted upon the bed in which he thought to find a youngboy and his helpless, invalid grandmother.

The American sought only the bank roll. If he could possesshimself of this without detection, well and good; but were he tomeet resistance he was prepared for that too. The lad's clotheslay across a chair beside the bed. The American's fingers feltswiftly through them--the pockets contained no roll of crisp,new notes. Doubtless they were beneath the pillows of the bed.He stepped closer toward the sleeper; his hand was already halfway beneath the pillow when the thick cloud that had obscuredthe moon rolled aside and the room was flooded with light. At the same instant the boy opened his eyes and looked straightinto those of Condon. The man was suddenly conscious that theboy was alone in the bed. Then he clutched for his victim's throat. As the lad rose to meet him Condon heard a low growl at his back,then he felt his wrists seized by the boy, and realized thatbeneath those tapering, white fingers played muscles of steel.

He felt other hands at his throat, rough hairy hands that reachedover his shoulders from behind. He cast a terrified glancebackward, and the hairs of his head stiffened at the sight his eyesrevealed, for grasping him from the rear was a huge, man-like ape. The bared fighting fangs of the anthropoid were close to his throat. The lad pinioned his wrists. Neither uttered a sound. Where wasthe grandmother? Condon's eyes swept the room in a singleall-inclusive glance. His eyes bulged in horror at therealization of the truth which that glance revealed. In the powerof what creatures of hideous mystery had he placed himself!Frantically he fought to beat off the lad that he might turn uponthe fearsome thing at his back. Freeing one hand he struck asavage blow at the lad's face. His act seemed to unloose athousand devils in the hairy creature clinging to his throat. Condon heard a low and savage snarl. It was the last thing thatthe American ever heard in this life. Then he was dragged backwardupon the floor, a heavy body fell upon him, powerful teeth fastenedthemselves in his jugular, his head whirled in the sudden blacknesswhich rims eternity--a moment later the ape rose from his prostrateform; but Condon did not know--he was quite dead.

The lad, horrified, sprang from the bed to lean over the bodyof the man. He knew that Akut had killed in his defense, as hehad killed Michael Sabrov; but here, in savage Africa, far fromhome and friends what would they do to him and his faithful ape? The lad knew that the penalty of murder was death. He even knewthat an accomplice might suffer the death penalty with the principal. Who was there who would plead for them? All would be against them. It was little more than a half-civilized community, and the chanceswere that they would drag Akut and him forth in the morning and hangthem both to the nearest tree--he had read of such things beingdone in America, and Africa was worse even and wilder than thegreat West of his mother's native land. Yes, they would both behanged in the morning!

Was there no escape? He thought in silence for a few moments,and then, with an exclamation of relief, he struck hispalms together and turned toward his clothing upon the chair.Money would do anything! Money would save him and Akut!He felt for the bank roll in the pocket in which he had beenaccustomed to carry it. It was not there! Slowly at first andat last frantically he searched through the remaining pockets ofhis clothing. Then he dropped upon his hands and knees andexamined the floor. Lighting the lamp he moved the bed to oneside and, inch by inch, he felt over the entire floor. Beside thebody of Condon he hesitated, but at last he nerved himself totouch it. Rolling it over he sought beneath it for the money. Nor was it there. He guessed that Condon had entered their roomto rob; but he did not believe that the man had had time to possesshimself of the money; however, as it was nowhere else, it mustbe upon the body of the dead man. Again and again he wentover the room, only to return each time to the corpse; but nowhere could he find the money.

He was half-frantic with despair. What were they to do? In the morning they would be discovered and killed. For all hisinherited size and strength he was, after all, only a little boy--a frightened, homesick little boy--reasoning faultily from themeager experience of childhood. He could think of but a singleglaring fact--they had killed a fellow man, and they were amongsavage strangers, thirsting for the blood of the first victim whomfate cast into their clutches. This much he had gleaned frompenny-dreadfuls.

And they must have money!

Again he approached the corpse. This time resolutely. The apesquatted in a corner watching his young companion. The youthcommenced to remove the American's clothing piece by piece,and, piece by piece, he examined each garment minutely. Even tothe shoes he searched with painstaking care, and when the lastarticle had been removed and scrutinized he dropped back uponthe bed with dilated eyes that saw nothing in the present--only a grim tableau of the future in which two forms swungsilently from the limb of a great tree.

How long he sat thus he did not know; but finally he was arousedby a noise coming from the floor below. Springing quickly to hisfeet he blew out the lamp, and crossing the floor silently lockedthe door. Then he turned toward the ape, his mind made up.

Last evening he had been determined to start for home at thefirst opportunity, to beg the forgiveness of his parents for thismad adventure. Now he knew that he might never return to them. The blood of a fellow man was upon his hands--in his morbidreflections he had long since ceased to attribute the deathof Condon to the ape. The hysteria of panic had fastened theguilt upon himself. With money he might have bought justice;but penniless!--ah, what hope could there be for strangerswithout money here?

But what had become of the money? He tried to recall whenlast he had seen it. He could not, nor, could he, would he havebeen able to account for its disappearance, for he had beenentirely unconscious of the falling of the little package from hispocket into the sea as he clambered over the ship's side into thewaiting canoe that bore him to shore.

Now he turned toward Akut. "Come!" he said, in the language ofthe great apes.

Forgetful of the fact that he wore only a thin pajama suit heled the way to the open window. Thrusting his head out helistened attentively. A single tree grew a few feet fromthe window. Nimbly the lad sprang to its bole, clingingcat-like for an instant before he clambered quietly to theground below. Close behind him came the great ape. Two hundredyards away a spur of the jungle ran close to the straggling town. Toward this the lad led the way. None saw them, and a momentlater the jungle swallowed them, and John Clayton, future LordGreystoke, passed from the eyes and the knowledge of men.

It was late the following morning that a native housemanknocked upon the door of the room that had been assigned toMrs. Billings and her grandson. Receiving no response heinserted his pass key in the lock, only to discover that anotherkey was already there, but from the inside. He reported the factto Herr Skopf, the proprietor, who at once made his way to thesecond floor where he, too, pounded vigorously upon the door. Receiving no reply he bent to the key hole in an attempt to lookthrough into the room beyond. In so doing, being portly, he losthis balance, which necessitated putting a palm to the floor tomaintain his equilibrium. As he did so he felt something softand thick and wet beneath his fingers. He raised his open palmbefore his eyes in the dim light of the corridor and peered at it. Then he gave a little shudder, for even in the semi-darkness hesaw a dark red stain upon his hand. Leaping to his feet he hurledhis shoulder against the door. Herr Skopf is a heavy man--or atleast he was then--I have not seen him for several years. The fraildoor collapsed beneath his weight, and Herr Skopf stumbledprecipitately into the room beyond.

Before him lay the greatest mystery of his life. Upon the floorat his feet was the dead body of a strange man. The neck wasbroken and the jugular severed as by the fangs of a wild beast. The body was entirely naked, the clothing being strewn aboutthe corpse. The old lady and her grandson were gone. The windowwas open. They must have disappeared through the window for thedoor had been locked from the inside.

But how could the boy have carried his invalid grandmotherfrom a second story window to the ground? It was preposterous.Again Herr Skopf searched the small room. He noticed that thebed was pulled well away from the wall--why? He looked beneathit again for the third or fourth time. The two were gone,and yet his judgment told him that the old lady could not havegone without porters to carry her down as they had carried herup the previous day.

Further search deepened the mystery. All the clothing of thetwo was still in the room--if they had gone then they must havegone naked or in their night clothes. Herr Skopf shook his head;then he scratched it. He was baffled. He had never heard ofSherlock Holmes or he would have lost no time in invoking theaid of that celebrated sleuth, for here was a real mystery: An old woman--an invalid who had to be carried from the ship toher room in the hotel--and a handsome lad, her grandson, hadentered a room on the second floor of his hostelry the day before. They had had their evening meal served in their room--that wasthe last that had been seen of them. At nine the following morningthe corpse of a strange man had been the sole occupant of that room. No boat had left the harbor in the meantime--there was not arailroad within hundreds of miles--there was no other whitesettlement that the two could reach under several days of arduousmarching accompanied by a well-equipped safari. They hadsimply vanished into thin air, for the native he had sent toinspect the ground beneath the open window had just returnedto report that there was no sign of a footstep there, and whatsort of creatures were they who could have dropped that distanceto the soft turf without leaving spoor? Herr Skopf shuddered. Yes, it was a great mystery--there was something uncanny aboutthe whole thing--he hated to think about it, and he dreaded thecoming of night.

It was a great mystery to Herr Skopf--and, doubtless, still is.