Chapter 5 The Plot That Failed

For a month Tarzan was a regular and very welcome devotee at the

shrine of the beautiful Countess de Coude. Often he met other

members of the select little coterie that dropped in for tea of an

afternoon. More often Olga found devices that would give her an

hour of Tarzan alone.

For a time she had been frightened by what Nikolas had insinuated.

She had not thought of this big, young man as anything more than

friend, but with the suggestion implanted by the evil words of

her brother she had grown to speculate much upon the strange force

which seemed to attract her toward the gray-eyed stranger. She

did not wish to love him, nor did she wish his love.

She was much younger than her husband, and without having realized

it she had been craving the haven of a friendship with one nearer

her own age. Twenty is shy in exchanging confidences with forty.

Tarzan was but two years her senior. He could understand her, she

felt. Then he was clean and honorable and chivalrous. She was not

afraid of him. That she could trust him she had felt instinctively

from the first.

From a distance Rokoff had watched this growing intimacy with

malicious glee. Ever since he had learned that Tarzan knew that

he was a Russian spy there had been added to his hatred for the

ape-man a great fear that he would expose him. He was but waiting

now until the moment was propitious for a master stroke. He wanted

to rid himself forever of Tarzan, and at the same time reap an ample

revenge for the humiliations and defeats that he had suffered at

his hands.

Tarzan was nearer to contentment than he had been since the peace

and tranquility of his jungle had been broken in upon by the

advent of the marooned Porter party. He enjoyed the pleasant social

intercourse with Olga's friends, while the friendship which had

sprung up between the fair countess and himself was a source of

never-ending delight. It broke in upon and dispersed his gloomy

thoughts, and served as a balm to his lacerated heart.