"You speak as a child," said Winchester. "Insanity's not like chicken-pox. There's no book of the rules." "I don't care. You can't possibly know. On a matter like this your own opinion's worthless. It's the one thing no man can say of himself: You can't judge your own judgment." Staring into the fire, Winchester began to tap the floor with his toe. "I've said I'll carry on, and you can put my name in, but I'm sorry I was so quick." "Why?" "Because I oughtn't to subscribe to this belief. It's all wrong. I'm admitting a possibility which doesn't exist. I'm humouring a dangerous whim. For over two months I've spent ten hours a day in your company--I've sat at your feet--I've marvelled at your wisdom--I've envied your instinct--I've been dazed by your amazing efficiency--and now I'm to put on record----" With a stifled roar, Winchester threw back his head and beat with his fists upon his temples. "You fool!" he raved. "Out of your own mouth.... The very wisdom you marvel at has shown me what you can't see. That instinct you say you envy has opened my eyes. I tell you I'm going mad. Time and again I've seen the writing upon the wall. I walk with Insanity of nights. Three months ago I chucked my revolver into the lake, or I shouldn't be here to-day. You babble of madness; I tell you I know the jade. Why, there are nights when the stars slip and the world lies on her side, and only the woods of Gramarye keep me from falling off. I climb from tree to tree, man. They're like the rungs of a ladder, with their tops swaying in the wind over eternity and their roots stuck fast in a gigantic wall--that's the earth ... on her side ... They're sticking straight out like pegs. And sometimes I hear a roar coming, and the trees are bent like reeds, and the wind screams to glory, and the whole world turns turtle--swings right over and round. Think of it, man. Twelve thousand miles in a second of time. And there are the stars on my right, and I'm climbing the wrong way up.... But Gramarye holds me fast. As long as I'm in the woods---- But the roads are the devil. They make such a gap. You have to climb them to get to the other side. The trees are child's play--they help you. But the roads ... I shall meet it on one of those roads ... one day ... one day...." The deep sonorous voice faded, and with a whimper Mr. Plowman slid on to the floor. It was Anthony who picked him up and carried the unconscious lawyer into the open air. As he was helping him to his feet, Winchester appeared with brandy. "I was so engrossed," he said quietly, "that I never saw you go down. Was the room too hot?" Mr. Plowman gulped down some spirit before replying. Then-- "Yes," he said jerkily. "I--I think perhaps it was. I must apologize, sir." Winchester inclined his head.