The Shape gave a malicious leer.
“I believe neither in shades, spectres, nor enchantments, but of chemistry am persuaded! But how can I be assured of what thou sayest?”
“I will give thee a sign of my power!”
“As thou wilt.”
The Shape, taking an empty phial, poured into it a portion of the contents of several of the dark liquids, and the mixture was clear and colorless.
“By the eyes of yonder Hecate, thou hast power! and now the price of thy potion?”
“From thee, O dramatic ranter, a full purse of gold, for thou art rich.”
Leander drew from an inner secret fold in his tunic a small purse filled with gold, and taking the phial, carefully deposited it in the place from whence he had taken the coin.
He chuckled to himself as he thought of his new-found secret for revenge upon Marcius, and was about to turn towards the entrance when the hag interposed,—
“A mutual oath of secrecy before thou departest.”