“People often say I’m mad--_I’ve_ heard them. Even if I am, it isn’t the thing to throw in a gentleman’s teeth, but I’m not--I’m not. _You_ don’t think I am, do you?” I was that “took aback,” as Mrs. Brown would put it, that, if I had not had the presence of mind to gulp down a good mouthful of whisky and water, I don’t know what I should have done. I then managed to get out something about “a few slight eccentricities, perhaps, but----” “That’s it,” he cried excitedly, “‘eccentricities ‘--and they call that being mad. But they won’t call me mad long--wait till I’ve made my name. They won’t call me mad then. Mad! It’s _they’re_ the fools, to think a man’s mad when he isn’t. Ha, ha, my boy, I’ll surprise ‘em one day. I’ll show the fools--the dolts--the idiots, who’s been mad. ‘Great genius is to madness close allied.’ Who said that, eh? _He_ was a genius, and they called _him_ mad, perhaps. They’re fools--all fools, I tell you. They can’t tell the difference between madness and genius, but I’ll show them some day--some day.” Fortunately there was nobody else in the bar where we were, or his ravings would have attracted an unpleasant amount of attention. He wanted to give me a taste of his quality then and there in his favorite _rôle_ of Romeo, and I only kept him quiet by promising to call that night and hear him rehearse the part. When we were ready to go out, I put my hand in my pocket to pay, but, to my horror, Mat was before me, and laid down the money on the counter. Nor would any argument induce him to take it up again. He was hurt at the suggestion even, and reminded me that I had stood treat on the last occasion--about three months ago. It was impossible to force the money on him. He was as proud on his six shillings a week as Croesus on sixty thousand a year, and I was compelled to let him have his way. So he paid the eightpence, and then we parted on the understanding that I was to see him later on at his “lodgings.”--“They are not what I could wish,” he explained, “but you will, I am sure, overlook a few bachelor inconveniences. The place suits me well enough--for the present.” Hearing a lunatic go through Romeo is not the pleasantest way of passing the night, but I should not have had pluck enough to disappoint the poor fellow, even if I had not promised, and, accordingly, after having spent the evening enjoying the unusual luxury of sitting quiet, and seeing, other people excite themselves for _my_ amusement, I made my way to the address Mat had given me.