adept, producing at the same time a tiny sealed phial from a drawer under his hand.
"Of course you name your own price," replied Malletort, snatching up his purchase with impatience, and leaving in its place a purse through which the gold shone temptingly, and which clanked down on the table as if the weight of its lining was satisfactory enough.
The two men seemed to understand each other, for almost before the Signor's grasp was on the purse his visitor had left the house; but Bartoletti, locking up the drawer, returned to his gaudy sitting-room, with a twitching lip and a cold sweat bursting from his brow.
Till the adept had summoned his theatrical footman, and ordered another flagon of the red wine, he gasped and panted like a man awaking from a nightmare; nor did he recover his equanimity till the flagon was three-parts emptied.
By that time, however, he was scarce in a condition to pursue his researches after the philosopher's stone.
