“What kind of insanity should I pretend to have?”
He thought Candler squirmed a little in his chair. Candler said, “Well—wouldn’t this Nappy business be a natural? I mean, paranoia is a form of insanity which, Dr. Randolph told me, hasn’t any physical symptoms. It’s just a delusion supported by a systematic framework of rationalization. A paranoiac can be sane in every way except one.”
He watched Candler and there was a faint twisted grin on his lips. “You mean I should think I’m Napoleon?”
Candler gestured slightly. “Choose your own delusion. But—isn’t that one a natural? I mean, the boys around the office always kidding you and calling you Nappy. And—” He finished weakly, “—and everything.”
And then Candler looked at him squarely. “Want to do it?”
He stood up. “I think so. I’ll let you know for sure tomorrow morning after I’ve slept on it, but unofficially—yes. Is that good enough?”
Candler nodded.
He said, “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off; I’m going to the library to read up on paranoia. Haven’t anything else to do anyway. And I’ll talk to Charlie Doerr this evening. Okay?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
He grinned at Candler. He leaned across the desk. He said, “I’ll let you in on a little secret, now that things have gone his far. Don’t tell anyone. I am Napoleon!”