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The Inca of Peru stood at the door of his tent and surveyed Black Jack, who was not more than a few feet away from him.

‘Have a glass of my elixir,’ he said to the death-dealer; ‘no one in this town needs it more than thee, by all accounts. Have a glass, and live for ever. Only sixpence.’

The man in the cart laughed aloud.

‘I’ve nowt on me–not a farden,’ he answered, in a strong grating voice.

At that moment a girl, half hidden by the cart, sprang forward, offering something in her outstretched palm to the Inca; but he, misunderstanding her intention, merely glanced with passing interest at her face, and returned his gaze to the prisoner.

‘I’ll give thee a glass, lad,’ he said quickly, ‘and then thou canst defy Jack Ketch.’

The crowd yelled with excitement, and the murderer held forth his great hand for the potion. Using every art to enhance the effect of this dramatic advertisement, the Inca of Peru raised his bottle on high, and said in a loud, impressive tone:

‘This precious liquid has the property, possessed by no other liquid on earth, of frothing twice. I shall pour it into the glass, and it will froth. Black Jack will drink it, and after he has drunk it will froth again. Observe!’

He uncorked the bottle and filled the glass with the reddish fluid, which after a few seconds duly effervesced, to the vague wonder of the populace. The Inca held the glass till the froth had subsided, and then solemnly gave it to Black Jack.

‘Drink!’ commanded the Inca.

Black Jack took the draught at a gulp, and instantly flung the glass at the Inca’s face. It missed him, however. There were signs of a fracas, but the door of the watch-house swung opportunely open, and Jack was dragged from the cart and hustled within. The crowd, with a crowd’s fickleness, turned to other affairs.

That evening the ingenious Inca of Peru did good trade for several hours, but towards eleven o’clock the attraction of the public-houses and of a grand special combined bull and bear beating by moonlight in the large yard of the Cock Inn drew away the circle of his customers until there was none left. He retired inside the tent with several pounds in his pocket and a god’s consciousness of having made immortal many of the sons and daughters of Adam.

As he was counting out his gains on the tub of eternal youth by the flicker of a dip, someone lifted the flap of the booth and stealthily entered. He sprang up, fearing robbery with violence, which was sufficiently common during the Wakes; but it was only the young girl who had stood behind the cart when he offered to Black Jack his priceless boon. The Inca had noticed her with increasing interest several times during the evening as she loitered restless near the door of the watch-house.

‘What do you want?’ he asked her, with the ingratiating affability of the rake who foresees everything.

‘Give me a drink.’

‘A drink of what, my dear?’

‘Licksy.’

He raised the dip, and by its light examined her face. It was a kind of face which carries no provocative signal for nine men out of ten, but which will haunt the tenth: a child’s face with a passionate woman’s eyes burning and dying in it–black hair, black eyes, thin pale cheeks, equine nostrils, red lips, small ears, and the smallest chin conceivable. He smiled at her, pleased.

‘Can you pay for it?’ he said pleasantly.

The girl evidently belonged to the poorest class. Her shaggy, uncovered head, lean frame, torn gown, and bare feet, all spoke of hardship and neglect.

‘I’ve a silver groat,’ she answered, and closed her small fist tighter.

‘A silver groat!’ he exclaimed, rather astonished. ‘Where did you get that from?’

‘He give it me for a-fairing yesterday.’

‘Who?’

‘Him yonder’–she jerked her head back to indicate the watch-house–‘Black Jack.’

‘What for?’

‘He kissed me,’ she said boldly; ‘I’m his sweetheart.’