He shut the door quickly. The doctor was alone for the first time in his life with the three men he hated and feared. “Oberzohn, this is the end,” said Manfred. That queer grimace that passed for a smile flitted across the puckered face of the doctor. “I think not, my friends,” he said. “Here is a statement by Cuccini. I am but the innocent victim, as you will see. Cuccini has confessed to all and has implicated his friends. I would not resist—why should I? I am an honest, respectable man, and a citizen of a great and friendly country. Behold!” He showed the paper. Manfred took it from his hand but did not read it. “Also, whatever happens, your lady loses her beautiful hill of gold.” He found joy in this reflection. “For to-morrow is the last day——” “Stand over there, Oberzohn,” said Manfred, and pushed him against the wall. “You are judged. Though your confession may cheat the law, you will not cheat us.” And then the doctor saw something and he screamed his fear. Leon Gonsalez was fixing a cigarette to the long black holder he had found in Gurther’s room. “You hold it thus,” said Leon, “do you not?” He dipped the cigarette down and pressed the small spring that was concealed in the black ebonite. “The holder is an insulated chamber that holds two small icy splinters—I found the mould in your laboratory, Herr Doktor. They drop into the cigarette, which is a metal one, and then . . .” He lifted it to his lips and blew. None saw the two tiny icicles fly. Only Oberzohn put his hand to his cheek with a strangled scream, glared for a second, and then went down like a heap of rags. Leon met Inspector Meadows on his way up. “I’m afraid our friend has gone,” he said. “He has cheated the hangman of ten pounds.” “Dead?” said Meadows. “Suicide?” “It looks like a snake-bite to me,” said Leon carelessly, as he went down to find Mirabelle Leicester, half laughing, half crying, whilst an earnest Elijah Washington was explaining to her the admirable domestic qualities of snakes. “There’s five thousand dollars’ worth dead,” he said, in despair, “but there’s enough left to start a circus!” _Chapter XXXIV_ _The Death Tube_ LATER, Manfred explained to an interested police chief. “Oberzohn secured the poison by taking a snake and extracting his venom—a simple process: you have but to make him angry, and he will bite on anything. The doctor discovered a way of blending these venoms to bring out the most deadly qualities of them all—it sounds fantastic, and, from the scientist’s point of view, unlikely. But it is nevertheless the fact. The venom was slightly diluted with water and enough to kill a dozen people was poured into a tiny mould and frozen.” “Frozen?” said the chief, in astonishment. Manfred nodded.