“No,” said Dr Colman sharply; “the fact is, Mr Grant, my discovery is of a different character. The awful thing about him is—”
“Oh, go on, sir,” cried Bingham, in agony.
“The awful thing about him is,” repeated Colman, with deliberation, “that he isn't mad.”
“Not mad!”
“There are quite well-known physical tests of lunacy,” said the doctor shortly; “he hasn't got any of them.”
“But why does he dance?” cried the despairing Bingham. “Why doesn't he answer us? Why hasn't he spoken to his family?”
“The devil knows,” said Dr Colman coolly. “I'm paid to judge of lunatics, but not of fools. The man's not mad.”
“What on earth can it mean? Can't we make him listen?” said Mr Bingham. “Can none get into any kind of communication with him?”
Grant's voice struck in sudden and clear, like a steel bell:
“I shall be very happy,” he said, “to give him any message you like to send.”