"What a shame," Chadwick said, "to waste such divine methods on a commoner." He removed a pair of silver, leather-encased pliers from his jacket pocket and held them out proudly. He turned to Mr. Culpepper. A look of injury spread over his handsome features.
The little scientist, far from shivering with delighted horror over his impending torture, had closed his eyes and was leaning back against the wall in an attitude of deep meditation. At his side, Marc was staring eagerly at the thoughtful face. The two seemed completely oblivious to all else except themselves.
A flame of anger flickered in Chadwick's eyes. "Oh, really!" he exclaimed. "If that's the way it's going to be, I've half a mind not to pull his nails at all. He doesn't deserve it."
Agatha moved quickly to his side. "Now, don't lose your temper, love," she said. "You must force yourself. So much depends on it."
"Oh, very well," Chadwick said sullenly. He strode to Mr. Culpepper's side and stamped his foot. "Peasant!" he sneered.
Marc looked up, startled, and quickly put a finger to his lips. "Shhh!" he said. "Culpepper's working on an antidote. If you disturb him he may not get it finished. He works everything out in his head, you know."
"Well!" Chadwick exploded. "Of all the...!" He reached down and shook the scientist's shoulder. "Wake up!" he commanded.
Mr. Culpepper opened his eyes and gazed up at Chadwick, but it was apparent that he didn't really see him. His eyes were glazed and introspective. His mouth fell open to complete an expression of sheerest idiocy.
"My word!" Agatha breathed. "What's happened to him?"