ay, when you came here seeking protection--that is, the right place for me!"
Kate was trembling, leaning against Larry. "What--what--what do you mean, Mr. Cobbler?"
He chuckled again. "I only mean that it is I who have been trying to kill you all evening. Unfortunately, this meddling interne and his driver intervened. This time, however, there shall be no failure. I am sorry--but all three of you must die."
A subtle change had come over Mr. Cobbler's face as he spoke. The lines of dignity had fallen away, leaving a merciless expression. No longer was he the sedate industrialist, but a ruthless wolf. It was as if a disguise, long worn, had suddenly been discarded.
"I get it!" Larry exclaimed. "You are Nixville!"
"No, no!" Kate gasped.
Mr. Cobbler inclined his head, his eyes gleaming. "Indeed, yes. I am Nixville. When Mr. Cobbler returned to America a year ago, from a long stay in the Orient, people were easy to fool, for they hadn't seen him for years. They di