"
What Nicholas Snyders, recalling all things afterwards, could never
understand was why he sat there, listening in patience to the
stranger's talk; for, at the time, it seemed to him the jesting of a
wandering fool. But something about the stranger had impressed him.
"I have it with me," continued the odd pedlar; "and as for price--"
The stranger made a gesture indicating dismissal of all sordid
details. "I look for my reward in watching the result of the
experiment. I am something of a philosopher. I take an interest in
these matters. See." The stranger dived between his legs and
produced from his pack a silver flask of cunning workmanship and laid
it on the table.
"Its flavour is not unpleasant," explained the stranger. "A little
bitter; but one does not drink it by the goblet: a wineglassful, such
as one would of old Tokay, while the mind of both is fixed on the same
thought: 'May my soul pass into him, may his pass into me!' The
operation is quite simple: the secret lies within the drug." The
stranger patted the quaint flask as though it had been some little
dog.
"You will say: 'Who will exchange souls with Nicholas Snyders?'" The
stranger appeared to have come prepared with an answer to all
questions.
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