of any other irregularity than the demolished portion
of the roof. With an expression of mild concern upon
his face he entered the workshop.

"Number One has escaped into the jungle, Professor," he said.

Professor Maxon looked up in surprise, but before he
had an opportunity to reply a woman's scream, shrill
with horror, smote upon their startled ears.

Von Horn was the first to reach the campong of the
whites. Professor Maxon was close behind him,
and the faces of both were white with apprehension.
The enclosure was deserted. Not even Sing was there.
Without a word the two men sprang through the gateway
and raced for the jungle in the direction from which
that single, haunting cry had come.

Virginia Maxon, idling beneath the leafy shade of the
tropical foliage, became presently aware that she had
wandered farther from the campong than she had intended.
The day was sultry, and the heat, even in the dense shade
of the jungle, oppressive. Slowly she retraced her steps,
her eyes upon the ground, her mind absorbed in sad consideration
of her father's increasing moodiness and eccentricity.

Possibly it was this very abstraction which deadened
her senses to the near approach of another. At any
rate the girl's first intimation that she was not alone
came when she raised her eyes to look full into the