XXVIII
“This Story Will Show You That, if You Want to Save a Fellow Creature from Blows and Believe That It Is Better to Rescue a Cat Than a Man, You Will Excite the Anger of Your Neighbours. All Roads Lead to Rome—But Metempsychosis Leads to the Lunatic Asylum.”—Balançon Star
Two hours later a huge crowd of shouting people was jostling and pushing in front of the Doctor’s windows. Soon a shower of stones shattered the panes and the crowd was about to rush the doors when the police appeared at the end of the street. Things gradually became calmer and the mob scattered, but two policemen remained outside the Doctor’s house until the following day. The Doctor was in a state of extreme agitation the whole evening. He told himself that the letting loose of the crowd on him was due to the underhand threats of the priests and to the explosion of hatred which always heralds the advent of a new religion among the followers of an old one. He raised himself to the status of a martyr and felt ready to confess his faith before his executioners. He brought into his study as many animals as the room would hold and dawn found him sleeping between his dog, a goat and a sheep, and clasping to his heart the kitten which he had saved.
A loud knock at his door awakened him, and Honorine showed in a solemn looking individual, followed by two detectives, with the Medical Officer of Health in the background. The solemn individual made himself known as the Chief of Police, and courteously invited Heraclius to follow him. Very much upset, the latter did so and was made to get into a carriage which was waiting at the door. Then, sitting next the Chief of Police, with the Medical Officer and one detective facing him and the other detective on the box beside the driver, Heraclius soon noticed that they were driving down the Rue des Juifs, through the Place de l’Hôtel de Ville and the Boulevard de la Pucelle. At last they stopped outside a grim-looking building on the door of which was written “Home for the Mentally Deficient.” The Doctor suddenly realized the terrible trap into which he had fallen and the devilish cunning of his enemies. Summoning all his strength he tried to hurl himself into the road, but two strong hands forced him back into his seat. Then began a terrible struggle between him and the three men in charge of him: he wriggled and twisted and kicked and bit, howling with rage all the time. But at last he was overpowered, tied up, and carried into the fatal building. Its door clanged behind him with an ominous sound.
He was taken into a narrow cell of a peculiar kind. The fireplace and the windows were barred, the bed and the solitary chair were attached to the floor by iron chains, and there was no piece of furniture which could be picked up and handled by the occupant. As it turned out, events proved that these precautions were by no means unnecessary, for as soon as the doctor found himself in these new surroundings he gave way to the rage that was almost choking him. He tried to smash the furniture, to tear out the bars and to break the windows. Unsuccessful in this, he rolled on the ground and gave vent to such fearful cries that two men in blouses and uniform caps hurried in, followed by a huge bald-headed man dressed in black. At a sign, the two men seized Heraclius and in an instant had him in a straight waistcoat; then they glanced towards the man in black. The latter looked pensively at Heraclius for a moment and then said:
“Take him to the douche room.”
Heraclius was carried into a large cold room in the middle of which was an empty bath. Still yelling, he was undressed and placed in this bath. Before he knew what was happening, he was almost suffocated by as horrible an avalanche of cold water as ever descended on the back of any human being—even in the Arctic regions. Heraclius was completely silenced. The man in black, who had been watching him all the time, felt his pulse and said:
“Give him another one.”
A second shower fell from the ceiling and the Doctor collapsed, choking, to the bottom of his ice-cold bath. He was then picked up, wrapped in warm blankets and put to bed in his cell, where he slept soundly for thirty-five hours.
He woke the following morning with a steady pulse and a clear head. For some minutes he considered the situation and then he began to read his manuscript, which he had taken care not to leave behind. The man in black presently appeared, and when lunch was brought they had it together. The Doctor, who had not forgotten his cold bath, was very quiet and polite and made no reference to the subject which had resulted in such a misadventure; but conversed for a long time very entertainingly, in an endeavour to prove to his host that he was as sane as the seven sages of Greece.
The man in black, as he was leaving, gave the Doctor permission to take a stroll in the garden, which was a large one planted with trees. About fifty persons were taking exercise there: some were laughing, shouting and haranguing each other, others were grave and melancholy.
One of the first persons the Doctor noticed was a tall man with a long beard and white hair, who was walking by himself with his eyes on the ground. Without knowing why, the Doctor felt interested in the fate of this unknown man. Presently, the latter raised
