Never before had he conversed with a person so calmly authoritative, so perfectly at ease, and so commanding. This little commonplace-looking, negligently dressed man, talking easily in his armchair, made the spacious Adams feel small and of little account in the world. Captain Berselius filled all the space. He was the person in that room; Adams, though he had personality enough, was nowhere. And now he noticed that the perpetual smile of the Captain had no relation to mirth or kindliness, it was not worn as a mask, for Captain Berselius had no need for masks; it was a mysterious and unaccountable thing that was there.
“You know M. Thénard intimately?” said Captain Berselius, turning suddenly from some remarks he was making on the United States.
“Oh, no,” said Adams. “I have attended his clinics; beyond that——”
“Just so,” said the other. “Are you a good shot?”
“Fair, with the rifle.”
“You have had to do with big game?”
“I have shot bear.”
“These are some of my trophies,” said the Captain, rising to his feet. He took his stand before the great ape and contemplated it for a moment. “I shot him near M’Bassa on the West Coast two years ago. The natives at the village where we were camping said there was a big monkey in a tree near by. They seemed very much frightened, but they led me to the tree. He knew what a gun was; he knew what a man was, too. He knew that his hour of death had arrived, and he came roaring out of the tree to meet me. But when he was on the ground, with the muzzle of my Mannlicher two yards from his head, all his rage vanished. He saw death, and to shut out the sight he put his big hands before his face——”
“And you?”
“I shot him through the heart. This room does not represent all my work. The billiard room and the hall contain many of my trophies; they are interesting to me, for each has a history. That tiger skin there in front of the fireplace once covered a thing very much alive. He was a full-sized brute, and I met him in a rice field near Benares. I had not even time to raise my gun when he charged. Then I was on my back and he was on top of me. He had overshot the mark a bit—I was not even scratched. I lay looking up at his whiskers; they seemed thick as quills, and I counted them. I was dead to all intents and purposes, so I felt no fear. That was the lesson this gentleman taught me; it is as natural to be dead as to be alive. I have never been afraid of death since. Well, something must have distracted his attention and frightened him, for he lifted himself, passed over me like a cloud, and was gone. Well, so much for the tiger. And now for business. Are you prepared to act as medical attendant to my new expedition?”