"A few drops of this, mixed with a man's wine," said Jerningham, producing the phial in such manner that his body concealed it from Ravenshaw's view, "have been known to work a wonder."
"What is it?" she whispered, gazing at it.
"A love potion," he answered. "The surest in the world, too. 'Tis the one with which—" But he broke off, shook his head, and replaced the phial in his pocket.
"Let me have it," she whispered, excitedly.
"If you will swear to one thing."
"What?"
"That you will find means to use it this night."
"Why this night?"
He invented a reason. "So that, when it hath effect, you may use your power to draw him from that maid."
"I swear," she replied. He passed the phial to her, directed her in detail what to do, and returned to the front of the hall as if from a mere conference upon household matters. Meg went back to the kitchen. She failed to notice there that one of the beggars, a very old man, was missing; or that the window-seat was wet, as if the casement had been recently opened and closed again. Nor could old Jeremy have called her attention to these matters, for upon their return the other beggars had so crowded around him at the ale-cask that he had seen and heard only them and their clamours.