“Bauchardy?” said Duthil. “Why, he was the last man Berselius killed.”
“Silence,” said Thénard, then turning to Adams, “Berselius is a perfectly straight man. On these hunting expeditions of his he invariably takes a doctor with him; he is not a man who fears death in the least, but he has had bitter experience of being without medical assistance, so he takes a doctor. He pays well and is entirely to be trusted to do the right thing, as far as money goes. On that side the contract is all right. But there is another side—the character of Berselius. A man, to be the companion of Captain Berselius, needs to be big and strong in body and mind, or he would be crushed by the hand of Captain Berselius. Yes, he is a terrible man in a way—un homme affreux—a man of the tiger type—and he is going to the country of the big baboons, where there is the freedom of action that the soul of such a man desires——”
“In fact,” said Adams, “he is a villain, this Captain Berselius?”
“Oh, no,” said Thénard, “not in the least. Be quiet, Duthil, you do not know the man as I do. I have studied him; he is a Primitive——”
“An Apache,” said Duthil. “Come, dear master, confess that from the moment you heard that this Berselius was intent on another expedition, you determined to throw a foreigner into the breach. ‘No more French doctors, if possible,’ said you. Is not that so?”
Thénard laughed the laugh of cynical confession, buttoning his overcoat at the same time and preparing to go.
“Well, there may be something in what you say, Duthil. However, there the offer is—a sound one financially. Yes. I must say I dread that two thousand francs a month will prove a fatal attraction, and, if Mr. Adams does not go, some weaker man will. Well, I must be off.”
“One moment,” said Adams. “Will you give me this man’s address? I don’t say I will take the post, but I might at least go and see him.”
“Certainly,” replied Thénard, and taking one of his own cards from his pocket, he scribbled on the back of it—
CAPTAIN ARMAND BERSELIUS