Brent stared
at Flint.
"What is it?" he repeated, anxiously. "Have you suddenly gone mad, man?"
But there was no reply. Instead, Flint laughed all the more madly.
Brent was more than startled. If he could have seen himself in a glass
he would have seen that he was already wide-mouthed and disheveled.
Suddenly the smoke again blew in his face. He coughed again. His head
reeled.
Then, in a flash, it all dawned on him.
He shielded himself from the candles. But it was too late.
"My God!" he exclaimed, starting up. "The Madagascar madness!"
Brent looked about wildly. He rushed to Flint and shook him. But Flint
only laughed. He turned and moved toward the candles, reaching out for
them. But even as he did so his hand faltered.
He stopped and passed his hand across his tightening forehead. Slowly
over his face came a stupid expression. He felt himself going, without
power of retraining himself. His lips twitched and he swayed.
Then he began to laugh uncontrollably.
Flint rose and clapped him on the shoulder. Then both laughed foolishly,
loudly.
They were beyond help. It was the laughing madness.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40