During the days of anguish that followed Jane Clayton's imprisonment,
but two questions were uppermost in her mind--the whereabouts of her
husband and her son. She fully believed that the baby was aboard
the Kincaid, provided that he still lived, but whether Tarzan had
been permitted to live after having been lured aboard the evil
craft she could not guess.

She knew, of course, the deep hatred that the Russian felt for the
Englishman, and she could think of but one reason for having him
brought aboard the ship--to dispatch him in comparative safety in
revenge for his having thwarted Rokoff's pet schemes, and for having
been at last the means of landing him in a French prison.


Tarzan, on his part, lay in the darkness of his cell, ignorant of
the fact that his wife was a prisoner in the cabin almost above
his head.

The same Swede that served Jane brought his meals to him, but,
though on several occasions Tarzan had tried to draw the man into
conversation, he had been unsuccessful. He had hoped to learn
through this fellow whether his little son was aboard the Kincaid,
but to every question upon this or kindred subjects the fellow
returned but one reply, "Ay tank it blow purty soon purty hard."
So after several attempts Tarzan gave it up.

For weeks that seemed months to the two prisoners the little steamer
forged on they knew not where. Once the Kincaid stopped to coal,
only immediately to take up the seemingly interminable voyage.