be overlooked. If monsieur does not know who Nikolas Rokoff is,
this last piece of effrontery will insure that monsieur later has
good reason to remember him."

"That you are a coward and a scoundrel, monsieur," replied Tarzan,
"is all that I care to know of you," and he turned to ask the girl
if the man had hurt her, but she had disappeared. Then, without
even a glance toward Rokoff and his companion, he continued his
stroll along the deck.

Tarzan could not but wonder what manner of conspiracy was on
foot, or what the scheme of the two men might be. There had been
something rather familiar about the appearance of the veiled woman
to whose rescue he had just come, but as he had not seen her face
he could not be sure that he had ever seen her before. The only thing
about her that he had particularly noticed was a ring of peculiar
workmanship upon a finger of the hand that Rokoff had seized, and
he determined to note the fingers of the women passengers he came
upon thereafter, that he might discover the identity of her whom
Rokoff was persecuting, and learn if the fellow had offered her
further annoyance.

Tarzan had sought his deck chair, where he sat speculating on the
numerous instances of human cruelty, selfishness, and spite that
had fallen to his lot to witness since that day in the jungle four
years since that his eyes had first fallen upon a human being other
than himself--the sleek, black Kulonga, whose swift spear had that
day found the vitals of Kala, the great she-ape, and robbed the
youth, Tarzan, of the only mother he had ever known.