rest easy. But---- Oh, how can you think such a thing? I never in
all my life saw any one less likely to go under. You're not the type,
sir. It's--it's laughable." The words came tumbling out of an honest
heart. "I saw men go mad in France, but they were hardly your sort.
Perhaps you're too much alone. Will you let me live with you? Or, if
it's insomnia----"

"It isn't insomnia," said the giant. "It's insanity."

Mr. Plowman, who was picking up the pen which for the second time had
escaped the play of his trembling fingers, started violently and struck
his head against the table. The absurd action attracting annoyed
attention, he broke into a cold sweat.

"But you can't know that!" cried Anthony. "Only a doctor can----"

"What doctor would tell me the truth?"

"You needn't ask him. You can ask to be told the symptoms, and then
compare them with yours. If they tally----"

"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 t