Trouble off San Lorenca

From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery and violence comes one of the most colorful figures of all time, transcribed from the immortal pan of Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Tarzan, the bronze white sun of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of Travalloff San Lorenka. Perhaps it is difficult for those who have never visited exotic ports like Casablanca, Algiers, Triple A, and Tunis to picture Beccorata.

Beccorata is much like those other ports, except that it's a trifled dirtier, a bit more sinister, a little more completely steeped in the dark mystery of Africa. At one end of its narrow winding principal street is the Caffé du D'Abre, the Caffé of the Devil.

It presumably gets its name from the painted figures on its walls, But many claim it has been named for its owner. A small, goateed, mature, Andrei Devalo. Andrei, the quetches walked in. Mmm, extremely pretty.

Maybe another entertainer looking for a job. You're full. Did you ever see an entertainer who dressed a mule? She's a small town girl who has perhaps come over here to serve as ambitionaries. Shall I go over here and see what she wants?

No. Just understand there being uncomfortable. By the time she works up enough courage to walk over here, It would be easier to say no to whatever request she makes. Look, she's leaving. Perhaps she's afraid of all the ruff-looking devils that the ones painted on the walls.

But, Rossellle, miss. Yes? You're looking for someone? There is something I can do for you? I think maybe I made a mistake. This couldn't be the place, I... You're frightened. There's no need to be afraid of all the way, Deborah.