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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Oh, Greystoke!" cried a major, and stepped forward with outstretched hand. "Preswick," acknowledged Tarzan as he took the proffered hand. "I didn't recognize you at first," apologized the major. "The last time I saw you you were in London in evening dress. Quite a difference 'pon my word, man, you'll have to admit it." Tarzan smiled and turned toward the colonel.
There were mothers and brothers and sisters, and aunts and cousins to express various opinions on the subject, but as to what they severally advised history is silent. We know only that on a bright May morning in 1888, John, Lord Greystoke, and Lady Alice sailed from Dover on their way to Africa.
Tarzan joined them after he had taken the papers from Rokoff, and, as he approached, Jane Porter introduced him to Tennington. "John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, my lord," she said.
Arriving there, it was but a moment before full confirmation of his fears was impressed upon him. Lady Greystoke and the Mosula woman were gone. So, likewise, was Schneider. When Jones and Sullivan joined Mugambi he would have killed them in his anger, thinking them parties to the plot; but they finally succeeded in partially convincing him that they had known nothing of it.
He is sitting in Alice's lap beside the table where I am writing a happy, healthy, perfect child. Somehow, even against all reason, I seem to see him a grown man, taking his father's place in the world the second John Clayton and bringing added honors to the house of Greystoke.
"What proof did the Arab bring that she was your daughter?" asked Lord Greystoke. "None," replied the other. "That is why we thought best to consult you before organizing an expedition. The fellow had only an old photograph of her on the back of which was pasted a newspaper cutting describing her and offering a reward.
Across the baby grand piano lay the corpse of another black warrior, while before the door of Lady Jane's boudoir were the dead bodies of three more of the faithful Greystoke servants. The door of this room was closed. With drooping shoulders and dull eyes Tarzan stood gazing dumbly at the insensate panel which hid from him what horrid secret he dared not even guess.
Rokoff was now thoroughly angered because of his failure to reduce the girl to terror. He felt only hate for her, but it had come to his diseased mind that if he could force her to accede to his demands as the price of her life and her child's, the cup of his revenge would be filled to brimming when he could flaunt the wife of Lord Greystoke in the capitals of Europe as his mistress.
Lord and Lady Greystoke with Basuli and Mugambi rode together at the head of the column, laughing and talking together in that easy familiarity which common interests and mutual respect breed between honest and intelligent men of any races. Jane Clayton's horse shied suddenly at an object half hidden in the long grasses of an open space in the jungle.
Could D'Arnot have believed that this was the same man he had introduced into half a dozen of the most select clubs of Paris? What would his fellow peers in the House of Lords have said had one pointed to this dancing giant, with his barbaric headdress and his metal ornaments, and said: "There, my lords, is John Clayton, Lord Greystoke."
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