"That's only because you forget that 'mad' don't mean the same to them as to us. All Sahibs are mad, of course—and say that I am a little madder than most. But all mad people are directly inspired by Heaven. Therefore the madder I am, the more surely am I inspired. Twig?"
"It's a pretty deduction. I wonder if Sadiq Ali would set me down as inspired if I stood on my head before him when I go back?"
"No, because you couldn't do it!" said Charteris wickedly. "Takes some practice even to be effectively mad, my boy."
Whereupon Gerrard rode at him with upraised whip, and sensible conversation was at a discount until they returned to camp. Then the long hot morning was devoted to hearing petitions and trying cases. Charteris and Gerrard sat in one of the tents, with the complainants under the awning before them, and the Munshis on the ground at the side, while the witnesses perjured themselves and contradicted each other with equal gusto. In the course of the proceedings a panting messenger pushed his way through the throng carrying a red official bag, the colour showing that the letter it contained was urgent. Charteris opened it, and it seemed to Gerrard that his tanned face paled ever so little as he read. Then he looked up sharply at the messenger, whose eyes were fixed eagerly upon him.
"Sit down in the corner there, and wait until this case is finished," he said. "Hal, I daresay you will like to look at this." He passed the letter lightly to Gerrard, but gave his fingers a warning grip under cover of the paper.
[1] Inflated skins.
[2] Perfect leisure.
[3] Justice!