His partner, gloating over him, smoked faster now.

A strange light shone in his eyes.

His pulse beat faster than usual, and a certain extravagance of thought and speech had become manifest in him.
He tried to compose himself, feeling that he must not push the cowardly Flint too far, but his ideas refused to flow in orderly sequence.
Wonderingly he stared at his cigar, the tip of which was now glowing more brightly than before.
And then, suddenly sniffing the air he understood.

His eyes widened with horror absolute.

He started forward, gasped and cried: "_Flint! Flint! The oxygen is coming in!_" Uncomprehending, the old man still stood there, mumbling to himself.