this fact borne in on him. All the
thinking minds of the centre of civilization were so busy thinking
thoughts of their own making, that it was impossible to attract their
attention for more than a moment; from Bostoc the dramatist to Bastiche
the anarchist, each individual was turning his own crank diligently, and
not to be disturbed, even by Papeete's skull.

With such a thing in one's hand, picked up like some horrible talisman
which, if not buried, will eventually cast its spell upon human thought
and the future of the world; with such a thing in one's hand, surely the
Church would present itself to the mind as a court of appeal.

But as the Roman Catholic Church had actually put its broad back against
the door of the torture chamber, and was, in fact, holding it tight shut
whilst Papeete's head was being hacked from his body, it would scarcely be
logical to bring out the victim's skull hoping for redress. Other
denominations being of such little power in France, Adams determined to
leave the attempt to rouse them till he reached England, whither he
determined to go as soon as Berselius's health would permit him.

One evening, a fortnight after his visit to Pugin, on his return to the
Avenue Malakoff, Maxine met him in the hall.

He saw at once from her face that something had happened.

Berselius was worse; that afternoon he had suddenly developed acute
neuralgia of the right side of the head, and this had been followed almost
immediately by twitching and numbness of the left arm. Thenard had been
summoned and he had diagnosed pressure on the brain, or, at least,
irritation from depressed bone, due to the accident.

He declared himself for operation, and he had gone now to make
arrangements for nurses and assistants.

"He will operate this evening," said Maxine.

"And Madame Berselius?"

"I have telegraphed for her."

CHAPTER XLI

THE RETURN OF CAPTAIN BERSELIUS

Berselius, for the last fortnight, had been going back, slowly going from
bad to worse, and keeping the fact to himself.

Sulphonal, trional, morphia, each tried in turn had no power to prevent
him from dreaming. Sleep as soundly as he would, just as he was awaking,
the black blanket of slumber, turned up at a corner or an edge by some
mysterious hand, would reveal a dream or part of one.

There was nothing in these dreams to terrify him when he was dreaming
them; in them, he was just the old brave Berselius that nothing could
ter