From this I straightway saw that he had only a faint notion of the alchymical transmutation of metals. Thus I answered him that I did possess this knowledge, which was in truth a matter of mere chemistry, and explained to him the process of projection according to the rules of science. He listened intently and seemed content. As he then left the book in my hand, I soon realised I was holding a work of inestimable value, namely instructions how to make the philosopher’s stone for the alchymical preparation of the body and the extraction of the elixier of immortality both here and beyond. I sat there, benumbed in mind, unable to bring a word out yet unable, either, to conceal my feelings; my face must have revealed a whole host of excited passions, for I saw that the stranger kept a sharp eye on me and that nothing of my ferment escaped him. Nor did I think to conceal anything from him; I closed the book with a snap and said, “Truly, a most excellent book. What do you purpose with it?” “To make the elixier and the stone, according to the directions therein”, – as he answered he made a great effort to keep back the fear and greed which yet shone brightly in his eye. “For that, first of all someone must read the book who can understand it,” I objected.
“Are you able to perform it – and will you give your word as a gentleman and swear an oath on Christ’s Body and Blood?”
I answered that I was willing to try, but that was not to say my efforts would be crowned with success: there were many books containing such directions for the preparation of the red and white powders and yet all labour according to their receipts had been in vain.
At these words the face of my visitor was a battleground of passions that raged within his soul; distrust and triumph, darkest doubt and self-important pride pursued each other across his features with the speed of clouds on a wild night. Suddenly he tore open the shirt across his breast and took out a leathern pouch which he had kept concealed on his bare skin. He reached into it and held his hand out towards me – it held Mascee’s two ivory spheres! I recognised them at once, for they bore the signs I had scratched upon them before I threw them out of the window at the time when Bishop Bonner’s henchmen were searching for me to cast me into the Tower. This time I managed to conceal my thoughts and feelings better and I asked the stranger with apparent unconcern why he had produced the spheres in such mysterious fashion and what was special about them. At this he, without a word, opened the white sphere and showed me the fine grey powder it contained. I was astonished, for the colour and texture of the materia immediately called to mind the frequent descriptions I had read of the materia transmutationis of the alchymical adepts. A whirlwind of the wildest thoughts rushed through my mind: how was it that in that night of terror before my arrest I had not found the secret of these spheres, which were so easy to unscrew?! How was it possible that I had toyed with the spheres for hours, but instead of opening them had laboriously scratched signs on the hard ivory case and then, in a dark fit of revulsion, had thrown them out of the window? Had I then, thirty years ago, held the secret of life in my hand and, like a child that casts away a jewel as a worthless pebble, in my blindness discarded this divine gift and plunged into a sea of troubles and disappointment through my misunderstanding of the meaning of “Greenland”!
Whilst I, with my gaze fixed on the open hemisphere, remained sunk in such dark thoughts, which he presumably took for doubt and distrust, my guest carefully unscrewed the red ivory sphere and from the hollow cup shone the glow of the royal powder, the “Red Lion”! There was not for one second the possibility that I might be mistaken. I had too often read about such flaky purple granules in the best works of the old adepts to have been wrong about the nature of this material. I was almost overcome by the tangle of different thoughts that lay hold on me from all sides. I merely nodded dumbly when the stranger asked in a hoarse voice:
“And what is your opinion of this, Dr. Dee?”
I gathered all the strength of will I could muster and asked back:
“How did you come to be in possession of these two spheres?”
The stranger hesitated, then said irresolutely:
“First I would have your opinion on the book and the spheres.”
I answered:
“I think that we must first test out their worth. If both live up to the promise of their appearance then it is a right royal possession.”
My visitor mumbled something which sounded like an expression of satisfaction. then he said:
“I am glad that you are honest. I believe you are to be trusted. You are not one of those practitioners of the black arts who seek to defraud others of their lawful gain and profit. For that reason I have come to you, for you are a gentleman and a man of honour. If
