at all. Olga will be surprised, but not displeased.

"If there is a drop of red blood in the man the count will break
in upon a very pretty love scene in about fifteen minutes from now.
I think we have planned marvelously, my dear Alexis. Let us go
out and drink to the very good health of Monsieur Tarzan in some of
old Plancon's unparalleled absinth; not forgetting that the Count
de Coude is one of the best swordsmen in Paris, and by far the best
shot in all France."

When Tarzan reached Olga's, Jacques was awaiting him at the entrance.

"This way, Monsieur," he said, and led the way up the broad, marble
staircase. In another moment he had opened a door, and, drawing
aside a heavy curtain, obsequiously bowed Tarzan into a dimly
lighted apartment. Then Jacques vanished.

Across the room from him Tarzan saw Olga seated before a little
desk on which stood her telephone. She was tapping impatiently
upon the polished surface of the desk. She had not heard him enter.

"Olga," he said, "what is wrong?"

She turned toward him with a little cry of alarm.

"Jean!" she cried. "What are you doing here? Who admitted you?
What does it mean?"

Tarzan was thunderstruck, but in an instant he realized a part of
the truth.