off to fetch it.

"Good-bye, Jane," said Tarzan, extending his hand. "God bless
you!"

"Good-bye," replied the girl faintly. "Try to forget me--no, not
that--I could not bear to think that you had forgotten me."

"There is no danger of that, dear," he answered. "I wish to Heaven
that I might forget. It would be so much easier than to go through
life always remembering what might have been. You will be happy,
though; I am sure you shall--you must be. You may tell the others
of my decision to drive my car on to New York--I don't feel equal
to bidding Clayton good-bye. I want always to remember him kindly,
but I fear that I am too much of a wild beast yet to be trusted
too long with the man who stands between me and the one person in
all the world I want."

As Clayton stooped to pick up his coat in the waiting room his
eyes fell on a telegraph blank lying face down upon the floor. He
stooped to pick it up, thinking it might be a message of importance
which some one had dropped. He glanced at it hastily, and then
suddenly he forgot his coat, the approaching train--everything but
that terrible little piece of yellow paper in his hand. He read
it twice before he could fully grasp the terrific weight of meaning
that it bore to him.

When he had picked it up he had been an English nobleman, the proud
and wealthy possessor of vast estates--a moment later he had read
it, and he knew that he was an untitled and penniless beggar. It