"I don't know," Chadwick said decisively, "but I do know what's going to happen to him." He grasped Mr. Culpepper's hand and separated the little finger from the others. "Let's see him work this out in his mind."
Now that he was getting down to business, Chadwick seemed to experience a lift in spirit. "I think this will snap him out of it." He said it like a doctor about to administer the shock treatment to a mental patient. He hummed softly to himself.
"Oh, Mona!" Toffee moaned. "Just look at him! Happy as a hophead with a new poppy patch!"
She glanced at Mr. Culpepper but the little man had closed his eyes again, completely unaware that fate had singled him out for the main attraction at a sadistic fun fest. At his side, his eyes riveted on the advancing pliers, Marc was rigid in a state of white-faced paralysis.
Toffee darted from her place just as the pliers closed over Mr. Culpepper's nail. "Stop that!" she cried. She ran to Mr. Culpepper and shook him. "Wake up!" she pleaded. "Tell them the silly formula and let them have it!"
Mr. Culpepper's mouth snapped shut, but other than that, there was no reaction. She shook him again, but with no further result. Her eyes darted to his outstretched hand, and she gasped. Chadwick was beginning to pull.
Toffee sucked in a deep breath. "I ... I'll tell!" she faltered. "I know the formula. I'll give it to you."
The pliers came apart and Mr. Culpepper's small, veined hand fell limply to the little man's side. Toffee found herself instantly and confusingly confronted by Chadwick and Agatha.
"You know the formula?" Agatha said. "You'd best not be lying."
"Why ... I...." Toffee stammered.