"It is snobbishness," said Norman. "But you forget that snobbishness rules the world. The way to rule fools is to make them respect you. And the way to make them respect you is by showing them that they are your inferiors. I want Galloway's respect because I want his money. And I'll not get his money—as much of it as belongs to me—except by showing him my value. Not my value as a lawyer, for he knows that already, but my value as a man. Do you see?"
"No, I don't," snapped Tetlow.
"That's what it means to be Tetlow. Now, I do see—and that's why I'm Norman."
Tetlow looked at him doubtfully, uncertain whether he had been listening to wisdom put in a jocose form of audacious egotism or to the effervescings of intoxication. The hint of a smile lurking in the sobriety of the powerful features of his extraordinary friend only increased his doubt. Was Norman mocking him, and himself as well? If so, was it the mockery of sober sense or of drunkenness?
"You seem to be puzzled, Billy," said Norman, and Tetlow wondered how he had seen. "Don't get your brains in a stew trying to understand me. I'm acting the way I've always acted—except in one matter. You know that I know what I'm about?"
"I certainly do," replied his admirer.
"Then, let it go at that. If you could understand me—the sort of man I am, the sort of thing I do—you'd not need me, but would be the whole show yourself—eh? That being true, don't show yourself a commonplace nobody by deriding and denying what your brain is unable to comprehend. Show yourself a somebody by seeing the limitations of your ability. The world is full of little people who criticise and judge and laugh at and misunderstand the few real intelligences. And very tedious interruptions of the scenery those little people are. Don't be one of them. . . . Did you know my wife's father?"
Tetlow startled. "No—that is, yes," he stammered. "That is, I met him a few times."
"Often enough to find out that he was crazy?"
"Oh, yes. He explained some of his ideas to me. Yes—he was quite mad, poor fellow."