"Now let's see if you'll go, you infernal little devil!"
His finger touched the trigger, the thing spoke softly--that was one of
its chief attractions for Nigel--and spat forth a little jet of flame.
And as it did so, his brain cleared like magic. He laughed and shook
himself as though out of a trance into which he had fallen. The light was
still there. What a fool he was, potting at glow-worms like a madman!
He shut the window with a bang and started to undress, and then went over
to the door as he heard the doctor's voice outside.
"Thought I heard a shot, Nigel, what--?"
"You did. I'm a silly ass and have been potting at those beastly flames,"
returned Merriton, shamefacedly. "For Heaven's sake, don't tell the other
fellows. They'll think I've gone loony. And for a moment I believe I had.
But there's no harm done."
"Potting at those flames!" The doctor's voice was almost concerned. Then
he shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, well, there's nothing in it! I must say
I've taken a chance shot now and again at a bird myself from my bedroom
before now.
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