You are being provided with a book chapter by chapter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chapter. After reading the chapter, 1. shorten the chapter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any important nouns in the chapter. 3. Do not translate the original language. 4. Keep the same style as the original chapter, keep it consistent throughout the chapter. Your reply must comply with all four requirements, or it’s invalid.
I will provide the chapter now.

21
Right around Sean Preston’s rst birthday, on September 12, 2006, Jayden
James came along. He was such a happy kid right from birth.
Once I’d had both the boys, I felt so light—so light it was almost like I was a
bird or a feather, like I could oat away.
My body felt incredible to me. Is this what it’s like to be a thirteen-year-old
again? I thought. I didn’t have a belly anymore.
One of my friends came over and said, “Wow, you look so skinny!”
“Well, I’ve been pregnant for two years straight,” I said.
After the babies, I felt like a completely dierent person. It was confusing.
On one hand, I suddenly t into my clothes again. When I tried things on
they looked good! Loving clothes again was a revelation. I thought, Holy shit!
My body!
On the other hand, I’d been so happy feeling these babies protected inside
me. I got a little depressed once I was no longer keeping them safe inside my
body. They seemed so vulnerable out in the world of jockeying paparazzi and
tabloids. I wanted them back inside me so the world couldn’t get at them.
“Why is Britney so camera-shy with Jayden?” one headline read.
Kevin and I had gotten better at hiding the kids after Jayden was born, so
much so that people were wondering why no pictures of him had been released.
I think if anyone had thought about that question for a second, they could have
come up with some guesses. But no one was really asking the question. They just
kept acting like I owed it to them to let the men who kept trying to catch me
looking fat take photos of my infant sons.
After each birth, one of the rst things I had to do was look out the window
to count the number of enemy combatants in the parking lot. They just seemed
to multiply every time I checked. There were always more cars than seemed safe.
To see that many men gathering to shoot photos of my babies—it made my
blood run cold. With a whole lot of money in photo royalties on the line, it was
their mission to get pictures of the boys at any cost.
And my boys—they were so tiny. It was my job to keep them safe. I worried
that the ashing lights and the shouting would scare them. Kevin and I had to
devise strategies to cover them with blankets while making sure they could still
breathe. Even without a blanket over me, I barely could.
I didn’t have much interest in doing press that year, but I did one interview,
with Matt Lauer for Dateline. He said that people were asking questions about
me, including: “Is Britney a bad mom?” He never said who was asking them.
Everyone, apparently. And he asked me what I thought it would take for the
paparazzi to leave me alone. I wished he’d ask them—so whatever it was, I could
do exactly that.
Luckily, my home was a safe haven. Our relationship was in trouble, but
Kevin and I had built an incredible house in Los Angeles, right beside Mel
Gibson’s house. Sandy from Grease lived nearby, too. I’d see her and call out,
“Hi, Olivia Newton-John! How are you, Olivia Newton-John?”
For us, it was a dream house. There was a slide that went into the pool. There
was a sandbox, full of toys, so the kids could build sandcastles. We had a
miniature playhouse with steps and a ladder and a miniature porch. And we just
kept adding on to it.
I didn’t like the wooden oors so I added marble everywhere—and, of
course, it had to be white marble.
The interior designer was completely against it. He said, “Marble oors are
super slippery and hard if you fall down.”
“I want marble!” I shouted. “I need marble.”
It was my home and my nest. It was fucking beautiful. But I think I knew
then that I’d become weird.
I’d had these two kids back-to-back. My hormones were all over the place. I
was meaner than hell and so bossy. It was such a big deal for me to have kids. In
trying to make our home perfect, I had gone over the top. I look back now and
think, God, that was bad. I’m sorry, contractors. I think I cared too much.
I had an artist come in and paint murals in the boys’ rooms: fantastical
paintings of little boys on the moon. I just went all out.
It was my dream to have children and raise them in the coziest environment I
could create. To me they were perfect, beautiful, everything I’d ever wanted. I
wanted to give them the world—the whole solar system.
I began to suspect that I was a bit overprotective when I wouldn’t let my
mom hold Jayden for the rst two months. Even after that, I’d let her hold him
for ve minutes and that was it. I had to have him back in my arms. That’s too
much. I know that now. I shouldn’t have been that controlling.
Again, I think what happened when I rst saw them after they’d been born
was similar to what happened to me after the breakup with Justin: It was that
Benjamin Button thing. I aged backward. Honestly, as a new mother, it was as if
some part of me became the baby. One part of me was a very demanding grown
woman yelling about white marble, while another part of me was suddenly very
childlike.
Kids are so healing in one way. They make you less judgmental. Here they
are, so innocent and so dependent on you. You realize everyone was a baby once,
so fragile and so helpless. In another way, for me, having kids was psychologically
very complicated. It had happened when Jamie Lynn was born, too. I loved her
so much and was so empathic that I became her in this strange way. When she
was three, some part of me became three, too.
I’ve heard that this sometimes happens to parents—especially if you have
trauma from your childhood. When your kids get to be the age you were when
you were dealing with something rough, you relive it emotionally.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t the same conversation about mental health back
then that there is now. I hope any new mothers reading this who are having a
hard time will get help early and will channel their feelings into something more
healing than white marble oors. Because I now know that I was displaying just
about every symptom of perinatal depression: sadness, anxiety, fatigue. Once the
babies were born, I added on my confusion and obsession about the babies’
safety, which was ratcheting up the more media attention was on us. Being a
new mom is challenging enough without trying to do everything under a
microscope.

You are being provided with a book chapter by chapter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chapter. After reading the chapter, 1. shorten the chapter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any important nouns in the chapter. 3. Do not translate the original language. 4. Keep the same style as the original chapter, keep it consistent throughout the chapter. Your reply must comply with all four requirements, or it’s invalid.
I will provide the chapter now.

CHAPTER 21
“Did he forget something?” Maryellen asked behind her.
Patricia looked out the window and felt everything falling apart
around her. She watched as Carter and Blue got out of the Buick and
Leland’s BMW parked behind them. She saw Bennett’s little
Mitsubishi pickup drive past the end of their driveway and park at
his house, and then Bennett got out and came up her drive, joining
Carter and Blue. Ed emerged from the back seat of Leland’s gold
BMW in a short-sleeved shirt tucked into his blue jeans, wearing a
knit tie. Rumpled old Horse hauled himself out of the passenger side
of Leland’s car and hitched up his pants. Leland got out of the
driver’s seat and pulled on his summer-weight, polyester blazer.
“Who is it?” Kitty asked from the sofa.
Maryellen got up and stood next to Patricia, and Patricia felt her
stiffen.
“Patricia?” Grace asked. “Maryellen? Who all’s there?”
The men shook hands and Carter saw Patricia standing in the
window and said something to the rest of them and they trooped up
to the front porch in single file.
“All of them,” Patricia said.
The front door opened, and Carter walked into the hall, Blue right
behind him. Then came Ed, who saw Maryellen standing at the base
of the stairs and stopped. The rest of the men piled up behind him,
hot evening air billowing in around them.
“Ed,” Maryellen said. “Where are Detectives Cannon and Bussell?”
“They’re not coming,” he said, fiddling with his tie.
He stepped toward her, to take her shoulder or stroke her cheek,
and she jerked herself backward, stopping at the base of the banister,
holding on to it with both hands.
“Were they ever coming?” she asked.
Keeping eye contact, he shook his head. Patricia put one hand on
Maryellen’s shoulder, and it hummed beneath her like a high-tension
line. The two of them stood aside as Carter sent Blue upstairs and the
men filed past them and crowded into the living room. Carter waited
until they were all inside, then gestured to Patricia like a waiter
ushering her to her table.
“Patty,” he said. “Maryellen. Join us?”
They allowed themselves to be led inside. Kitty wiped tears from
her cheeks, face flushed. Slick stared at the floor between her and
Leland and he glared at her, both of them holding very, very still.
Grace made a point of studying the framed photo of Patricia’s family
hanging over the fireplace. Bennett looked past them all, through the
sun porch windows, out over the marsh.
“Ladies,” Carter said. Clearly the other men had elected him their
spokesman. “We need to have a serious talk.”
Patricia tried to slow her breathing. It had gotten high and shallow
and her throat felt like it was swelling closed. She glanced at Carter
and saw how much anger he carried in his eyes. “There aren’t enough
chairs for everyone,” she said. “We should get some of the dining
room chairs.”
“I’ll get them,” Horse said, and moved to the dining room.
Bennett went with him, and the men hauled chairs into the living
room and there was only the clattering of furniture as everyone
arranged themselves. Horse sat next to Kitty on the sofa, holding her
hand, and Leland leaned against the door to the hall. Ed sat
backward in a dining room chair, like someone playing a policeman
on TV. Carter sat directly across from Patricia, adjusting the crease in
his dress pants, the cuffs of his jacket, putting his professional face
on over his real face.
Maryellen tried to regain the initiative.
“If the detectives aren’t coming,” she said, “I’m not sure why you’re
all here.”
“Ed came to us,” Carter said. “Because he heard some alarming
things and rather than risk y’all embarrassing yourselves in front of
the police and doing serious damage to both yourselves and to your
families, he did the responsible thing and brought it to our
attention.”
“What you have to say about James Harris is libelous and
slanderous,” Leland cut in. “You could have gotten me sued into
oblivion. What were you even thinking, Slick? You could have ruined
everything. Who wants to work with a developer who accuses his
investors of dealing drugs to children?”
Slick lowered her head.
“I’m sorry, Leland,” she said to her lap. “But children—”
“‘On the day of judgment,’” Leland quoted, “‘people will give
account for each careless word they speak.’ Matthew 12:36.”
“Do you even want to know what we have to say?” Patricia asked.
“We got the gist,” Carter said.
“No,” Patricia said. “If you haven’t heard what we have to say, then
you have no right to tell us who we can and can’t speak to. We’re not
our mothers. This isn’t the 1920s. We’re not some silly biddies sitting
around sewing all day and gossiping. We’re in the Old Village more
than any of you, and something is very wrong here. If you had any
respect for us at all, you’d listen.”
“If you’ve got so much free time, go after the criminals in the
White House,” Leland said. “Don’t fabricate one down the street.”
“Let’s all slow down,” Carter said, a gentle smile on his lips. “We’ll
listen. It can’t hurt and who knows, maybe we’ll learn something?”
Patricia ignored the calm, medical-professional tone of his voice. If
this was his bluff, she’d call it.
“Thank you, Carter,” she said. “I would like to speak.”
“You’re speaking for everyone?” Carter asked.
“It was Patricia’s idea,” Kitty said, from the safety of Horse’s side.
“Yes,” Grace said.
“So tell us,” Carter said. “Why do you believe that James Harris is
some master criminal?”
It took a moment for her blood to stop singing in her ears and
settle to a duller roar. She inhaled deeply and looked around the
room. She saw Leland staring at her with his face stretched taut,
practically shimmering with rage, his hands jammed deep in his
pockets. Ed studied her the way policemen on TV watched criminals
dig themselves in deeper. Bennett stared out the windows behind her
at the marsh, face neutral. Carter watched her, wearing his most
tolerant smile, and she felt herself shrinking in her chair. Only Horse
looked at her with anything approaching kindness.
Patricia released her breath and looked down at Grace’s outline,
shaking in her hands.
“James Harris, as you all know, moved here around April. His
great-aunt, Ann Savage, was in poor health and he took care of her.
When she attacked me, we believe that she was on whatever drugs
he’s dealing. We think he’s selling them in Six Mile.”
“Based on what?” Ed asked. “What evidence? What arrests? Have
you seen him selling drugs there?”
“Let her finish,” Maryellen said.
Carter held out a hand and Ed stopped.
“Patricia.” Carter smiled. She looked up. “Put your paper down.
Tell us in your own words. Relax, we’re all interested in what you
have to say.”
He held out his hand, and Patricia couldn’t help herself. She
handed him Grace’s outline. He folded it in thirds and tucked it into
his jacket pocket.
“We think that he gave this drug,” Patricia said, forcing herself to
see Grace’s outline in her head, “to Orville Reed and Destiny Taylor.
Orville Reed killed himself. Destiny Taylor is still alive, for now. But
before they died they claimed to have met a white man in the woods
who gave them something that made them sick. There was also Sean
Brown, Orville’s cousin, who was involved in drugs, according to the
police. He was found dead in the same woods where the children
went, during the same period. In addition, Mrs. Greene saw a van
with the same license plate as James Harris’s in Six Mile during the
time this was all happening.”
“Did it have the exact same license plate number?” Ed asked.
“Mrs. Greene only wrote down the last part, X 13S, but James
Harris’s license plate is TNX 13S,” Patricia said. “James Harris
claims he got rid of that van, but he’s keeping it in the Pak Rat Mini-
Storage on Highway 17 and has taken it out a few times, mostly at
night.”
“Unbelievable,” Leland said.
“Sean Brown was involved in the drug trade, and we think James
Harris killed him in a horrible way to teach other drug dealers a
lesson,” Patricia said. “Ann Savage died with what you’d call track
marks on the inside of her thigh. Destiny Taylor had something
similar. James Harris must have injected something into them. We
believe that if you examine Orville Reed’s body you’ll find the same
mark.”
“That’s very interesting,” Carter said, and Patricia felt herself
getting smaller with every word he spoke. “But I’m not sure it tells us
anything.”
“The track marks link Destiny Taylor and Ann Savage,” Patricia
said, remembering Maryellen’s advice during one of their rehearsals.
“James Harris’s van was seen in Six Mile even though he says he’s
never been to Six Mile. His van is no longer at his house, but he’s
keeping it in Pak Rat Mini-Storage. Orville Reed’s cousin was killed
because of what’s going on. Destiny Taylor suffers from the same
symptoms as Orville Reed did before he killed himself. We don’t
think you should wait for Destiny Taylor to follow his example. We
believe that while this evidence is circumstantial, there is a
preponderance of it.”
Maryellen, Kitty, and Slick all looked from Patricia to the men,
waiting for their reaction. They gave none. Thrown, Patricia took a
sip of water, then decided to try something they hadn’t rehearsed.
“Francine was Ann Savage’s cleaning woman,” she said. “She went
missing in May of this year. The day she went missing, I saw her pull
up in front of James Harris’s house to clean.”
“Did you see her go inside?” Ed asked.
“No,” Patricia said. “She was reported missing and the police think
she went somewhere with a man, but, well, you have to know
Francine to realize that’s—”
Leland’s voice rang out loud and clear. “I’m going to stop you right
there. Does anyone need to hear more of this nonsense?”
“But, Leland—” Slick began.
“No, Slick,” Leland snapped.
“Would you ladies be open to hearing another perspective?” Carter
asked.
Patricia hated his psychiatric voice and his rhetorical questions,
but she nodded out of habit.
“Of course,” she said.
“Ed?” Carter prompted.
“I ran that license plate number you gave me,” Ed said to
Maryellen. “It belongs to James Harris, Texas address, no criminal
record except a few minor traffic violations. You told me it belonged
to a man Horse and Kitty’s girl was dating.”
“Honey’s dating this guy?” Horse asked in a shocked voice.
“No, Horse,” Maryellen said. “I made that up to get Ed to run the
plates.”
Kitty rubbed Horse’s back as he shook his head, dumbfounded.
“I’ll tell you,” Ed said. “I’m always happy to help out a friend, but I
was pretty damn embarrassed to meet James Harris thinking he was
a cradle robber. It was a cock-up of a conversation until I realized I’d
been played for a fool.”
“You met him?” Patricia asked.
“We had a conversation,” Ed said.
“You discussed this?” Patricia asked, and the betrayal made her
voice weak.
“We’ve been talking for weeks,” Leland said. “James Harris is one
of the biggest investors in Gracious Cay. Over the past months he’s
put, well, I won’t tell you how much money he’s put in, but it’s a
substantial sum, and in that time he’s demonstrated to me that he’s a
man of character.”
“You never told me,” Slick said.
“Because it’s none of your business,” he said.
“Don’t be upset with him,” Carter said. “Horse, Leland, James
Harris, and I have formed a kind of consortium to invest in Gracious
Cay. We’ve had several business meetings and the man we’ve gotten
to know is very different from this murderous, drug-dealing predator
you describe. I think it’s safe to say that we know him significantly
better than you do at this point.”
Patricia thought she’d knitted a sweater, but all she held in her
hands was a pile of yarn and everyone was laughing at her, patting
her on the head, chuckling at her childishness. She wanted to panic.
Instead, she turned to Carter.
“We are your wives. We are the mothers of your children, and we
believe there is a real danger here,” she said. “Does that not count for
something?”
“No one said it didn’t—” Carter began.
“We’re not asking for much,” Maryellen said. “Just check his mini-
storage. If the van’s there, you can get a search warrant and see if it
links him to these children.”
“No one’s doing anything of the sort,” Leland said.
“I asked him about that,” Ed said. “He told us he did it because he
thought all you Old Village ladies didn’t like his van parked in his
front yard, bringing down the tone of the neighborhood. Grace, he
told me you said it was killing his grass. So he got the Corsica, and
put the van in storage because he couldn’t bear to let it go. He’s
spending eighty-five dollars a month because he wants to fit in better
with the neighborhood.”
“And for that,” Leland said, “you want to drag his name through
the mud and accuse him of being a drug dealer.”
“We are men of standing in this community,” Bennett said. His
voice carried extra weight because he hadn’t spoken yet. “Our
children go to school here, we have spent our lives building our
reputations, and y’all were going to make us laughingstocks because
you’re a bunch of crazy housewives with too much time on your
hands.”
“We’re just asking you to go look at the mini-storage unit,” Grace
said, surprising Patricia. “That’s all. Just because you’ve had some
drinks with him at the Yacht Club doesn’t mean he’s hammered from
purest gold.”
Bennett fixed his eyes on her. His normally friendly face got red.
“Are you arguing with me?” he asked. “Are you arguing with me in
public?”
The rage in his voice sucked the air out of the room.
“I think we need to calm down,” Horse said, unsure of himself.
“They’re just worried, you know? Patricia’s been through a lot.”
“We’re worried about the children,” Slick said.
“It’s true, Patricia has had some emotional blows recently,” Carter
said. “And they’ve shaken her more than even I realized. You may not
know this, but just a few weeks ago she accused James Harris of
being a child molester. You women have all got fine minds, and I
know how hard it is to find intellectual stimulation in a place like
this. Add in the morbid books you read in your book club and it’s a
perfect recipe for a kind of group hysteria.”
“A book club?” Leland said. “They’re in a Bible study group.”
The room went silent, and then Carter chuckled.
“Bible study?” he said. “Is that what they call it? No, they meet
once a month for book club and read those lurid true crime books
full of gory murder photographs you see in drugstores.”
Blood drained from the women’s faces. Slick’s hands twisted in her
lap, knuckles white. Leland stared at her from across the room.
Horse squeezed Kitty’s hand.
“A covenant has been broken,” Leland said. “Between husband and
wife.”
“What’s going on?” Korey said from the living room door.
“I told you to stay upstairs!” Patricia snapped, all the humiliation
she felt erupting at her daughter.
“Calm down, Patty,” Carter said, then turned to Korey, playing the
gentle father figure. “We’re just having an adult conversation.”
“Why’s Mom crying?” Korey asked.
Patricia noticed Blue peering in from the dining room door.
“I’m not crying. I’m just upset,” she said.
“Wait upstairs, honey,” Carter said. “Blue? Go with your sister. I’ll
come explain everything later, okay?”
Korey and Blue retreated into the hall. Patricia heard them go up
the stairs, too loudly and obviously, and in her head she counted the
steps. They stopped before they reached the top and she knew they
were sitting on the landing, listening.
“I think everything’s been said that could possibly be said,” Carter
pronounced.
“You can’t stop me from going to the police,” Patricia said.
“I can’t stop you, Patty,” Carter said. “But I can inform them that I
believe my wife is not in her right mind. Because the first person
they’ll call isn’t a judge to get a search warrant; it’ll be your husband.
Ed’s made sure of that.”
“You can’t keep sending the police on wild-goose chases,” Ed said.
Carter checked his watch.
“I think the only thing that remains are apologies.”
Patricia’s spine turned to stone. This was something she could
hold on to, this was ground on which she could stand.
“If you think I’m going down to that man’s house and apologizing,
you are deeply mistaken,” she said, drawing herself up, speaking as
much like Grace as she could. She tried to make eye contact with
Grace, but Grace stared miserably into the cold fireplace, not making
eye contact with anyone.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Carter said as the doorbell rang.
“He’s agreed to come here.”
Right on cue, Leland stepped into the hall and came back with
James Harris. Unbelievably, he was smiling. James wore a white
button-up oxford shirt tucked into a new pair of khaki pants, and
brown loafers. He looked like someone who belonged on a boat. He
looked like someone from Charleston.
“I’m sorry about all of this, Jim,” Ed said, standing and shaking his
hand.
All the men exchanged firm handshakes and Patricia saw their
shoulders relax, the tension in their faces dissolve. She saw that they
thought of him as one of their own. James Harris turned to the
women, studying each of their faces, stopping at Patricia.
“I understand I’ve been the source of a whole lot of fuss and
worry,” he said.
“I think the girls have something they want to say,” Leland said.
“I feel terrible to have caused all this commotion,” James said.
“Patricia?” Carter prompted.
She knew he wanted her to go first to set an example for the other
women, but she was her own person, and she didn’t have to do
anything she didn’t want to. He’d forced her to apologize once
already. Not again.
“I have nothing to say to Mr. Harris,” she said. “I think he’s not
who he says he is and I think all anyone would need to do is look
inside his mini-storage unit to see I’m right.”
“Patricia—” Carter started.
“I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if Patricia is,” James said,
and stepped toward her with one hand outstretched. “Forgive and
forget?”
Patricia saw his hand and the whole room behind it blurred and
she felt everyone’s eyes on her.
“Mr. Harris,” she said. “If you don’t remove your hand from my
face immediately, I’m going to spit on it.”
“Patty!” Carter snapped.
James gave a sheepish grin and pulled his hand back.

After enjoying a pleasant dinner, the narrative swiftly shifts back to the underlying tension and mysteries between the narrator and Eddie. The chapter depicts a night that starts off with warmth and intimacy but quickly descends into unease. As they return to the house, Eddie’s disposition changes, visibly tensed, leading to an evening spent apart following an excessive consumption of wine. This physical and emotional distance sets the stage for a peculiar late-night encounter where the narrator finds Eddie in a suspicious state, allegedly searching for a misplaced key to the boathouse—a task both trivial and strangely urgent.

The interaction is marked by Eddie’s quick shift from irritation to a feigned casualness, but the narrator is left feeling unsettled and skeptical about Eddie’s true intentions. This discomfort is amplified by a fleeting look of interest from Eddie, which the narrator consciously decides to ignore, further emphasizing the growing rift between them. This detachment is symbolized by the narrator’s retreat to the bedroom, pondering over the existence of the boathouse key and Eddie’s authenticity.

The following afternoon, the narrative continues to unravel the complexities of their relationship, with Eddie confronting the narrator about unexplained withdrawals from a bank account. The conversation subtly reflects on trust, with Eddie’s knowledge of weddings hinting at a past that remains a silent wedge between them. Despite the narrator’s attempt to navigate this confrontation with claims of wedding expenses, the dialogue ends with Eddie’s request to use a provided credit card instead, a solution that seemingly resolves the immediate financial issue but leaves the underlying mistrust and deceptions unaddressed.

Throughout the chapter, the alternation between moments of connection and suspicion serves to build an atmosphere of unease, with every interaction loaded with unspoken questions and anxieties about the future, trust, and the true nature of their relationship.

In Chapter 21 of “The Beasts of Tarzan,” titled “The Law of the Jungle,” the story unfolds with Tarzan, overseeing the near completion of a skiff with the help of Mugambi and under considerable tension and lack of cooperation amongst his campmates, particularly from Schneider, the mate who deserts the work to hunt in the jungle but returns with a guise of remorse to continue work on the skiff. Schneider reports a herd of small deer in the jungle, prompting Tarzan to hunt, ultimately leading to a plot twist where Schneider and his cohort plot to kidnap Jane Clayton with false intentions of rescue to lure away her protectors.

When Tarzan hunts, a stranger, Gust, secretly follows a group including Kai Shang, intending to uncover their plans and thwart them due to a personal vendetta. Meanwhile, Schneider’s deceit in camp sends Mugambi on a false errand, enabling the kidnappers to seize Jane and the Mosula woman with ease due to their guard being down.

Tarzan, returning from the hunt, notices the absence of Jane and immediately suspects foul play, deducing that the kidnappers must have a means of escape from the island. Gust, aiming for revenge against his former comrades, reveals the plot to Tarzan, urging swift action to catch the abductors aboard the “Cowrie” before they sail off.

An intense confrontation ensues as Tarzan and his recruited beasts of the jungle, including the return of Sheeta the panther and the apes of Akut, manage a daring assault on the “Cowrie.” Tarzan’s forces overcome the kidnappers in a gruesome battle, rescuing Jane and the Mosula woman. Tarzan ensures Schneider’s demise personally, refusing to let evil go unpunished again.

The victorious group commandeers the “Cowrie,” setting the remaining kidnappers to work under the threat of death, and lands on Jungle Island to bid farewell to the beasts. Tarzan communicates with London via a passing ship, learning that their son, Jack, is safe, revealing a complicated scheme involving Rokoff, Paulvitch, and a betrayal that ensured the child’s well-being and return to his family.

The story ties up with the family reunited and safe in England, their enemies defeated or dead, and the jungle’s danger left behind, highlighting Tarzan’s decisive and cunning nature in protecting his family and ensuring justice.