his arm from behind, and, turning, he found himself face to face with Dr.
Stenhouse, an English physician who had set up in Paris, practising in the
Boulevard Haussmann and flourishing exceedingly.

"Well, this is luck," said Stenhouse. "I lost your address, or I would
have written, asking you to come and see us. I remembered it was over on
the other side of the water somewhere, but where exactly I could not
remember. What are you doing with yourself?"

"Nothing, just at present."

"Well, see here. I'm going to the Rue du Mont Thabor to see a patient;
walk along with me--it's quite close, just behind the Rue St. Honore."

They crossed the Place de la Concorde.

"You have finished your post-graduate work, I expect," said Stenhouse.
"Are you going to practise in the States?"

"Ultimately, I may," replied Adams. "I have always intended doing so; but
I have to feel my way very cautiously, for the money market is not in a
particularly flourishing state with me."

"Good heavens!" said Stenhouse, "when is it with a medical man, especially
when he is just starting? I've been through that. See here, why don't you
start in Paris?"

"Paris?"

"Yes, this is the place to make money. You say you are thinking of
starting in some American city; well, let me tell you, there are very few
American cities so full of rich Americans as Paris."

"Well," said Adams, "the idea is not a bad one, but just for the present I
am fixed. I am going on a big-game shooting expedition to the Congo."

"As doctor?"

"Yes, and the salary is not bad--two thousand francs a month and
everything found, to say nothing of the fun."

"And the malaria?"

"Oh, one has to run risks."

"Whom are you going with?"

"A man called Berselius."

"Not Captain Berselius?" asked Stenhouse, stopping dead.

"Yes, Captain Berselius, of No. 14 Avenue Malakoff. I have just returned
from having _dejeuner_ with him."

Stenhouse whistled. They were in the Rue du Mont Thabor by this, in front
of a small _cafe_.

"Well," said Adams, "what's wrong?"

"Everything," replied the other. "This is the house where my patient
lives. Wait for me, for a moment, like a good fellow. I shan't detain you
long, and then we can finish our talk, for I have something to tell you."

He darted into the _cafe_ and Adams waited, watching the passers-by and
somewhat perturbed in mind. Stenhouse's manner impressed him
uncomfortably, for, if Captain Berselius had been the devil, the