"An antidote?" the little man said. "I don't have one. I've been working on one, but I haven't thought it out completely yet. If you'll just get me out of here, I promise to do what I can."
"Untie him," Toffee said, already grappling with the ropes round his ankles. "Hurry."
Marc nodded and set to work on Mr. Culpepper's wrists. "Who's trying to kill you?" he asked.
"Mr. and Mrs. Harper," the little man said. "They want my formula for Fixage. I met them down in the Marlborough district. It's a pretty bad neighborhood. My laboratory is down there in an old building, I couldn't afford anything better. Anyway, I met these people one night ... I guess I was drinking a little too much ... and I told them about Fixage and how I was going to make a fortune with it. They were quite impressed. Ah, my dear, that feels good. My feet had nearly gone to sleep."
"Go on," Marc said. "What about the Harpers?"
"Well, I could tell they'd had plastic surgery done on their faces, and I guess I should have suspected them right away. Illegal treatment, you know, thrives down in that part of town. I think maybe they've escaped from the penitentiary or something, but there's no way of identifying them. They broke into my laboratory several times, but I didn't know who it was until now. They're planning to steal my formula and kill me and say they invented Fixage themselves. They followed me here today somehow and grabbed me when I came out."
"Where are they now?"
"They saw me carrying a brief case into the building and they think I've hidden it in there. They've gone back to look for it."
"Where is it?" Marc asked.
The little man chuckled. "In the men's room," he said. "I forgot and left it. They'll never find it there."