"Then thou wilt not go with me this morning?"

"Nay, I must not; this morning I am to learn how to spin. The mother of Jesus will teach me; afterward I shall make for thee a tunic. Now thou seest what a thing it is to have eyes." Anat looked down at the small hands which lay folded in her lap. "These," she continued, spreading out the slender brown fingers, "have hitherto been as idle as the hands of a princess, but the lady Mary says that they must learn many things, if with them I would serve him that healed me."

Seth looked half regretfully into the eager face. "Then we shall no more dwell by ourselves as heretofore? Hast thou forgotten the desert?"

"I have not forgotten, but I would like to stay here."

"And the dromedary?"

"Thou must find it. It was not I who would leave it without in the hands of a stranger. The lord of the desert is just in requiring it at thy hands."

The lad turned away. "Be it so," he cried angrily. "Till I have found it, thou wilt see my face no more; if that be never, why then----"

"Seth, Seth! Stay a moment, my brother! do not leave me so!" But he was gone, and without turning his head.

"How can I find the beast?" he muttered to himself crossly, as he plunged into the labyrinth of narrow streets. "I have asked everywhere for the man Gestas, no one knows him; as for the white dromedary, men look at me as if I were a witless fool when I speak of it. If now I were in Egypt, I should offer a libation to Ptah Hotep, or fetch a garland to the temple of the sacred bull, then might I receive wisdom; if I pray to the gods of this land, how will they heed me who am an alien?" At this point in his meditation the lad flung himself down in the shadow of an archway, his eyes following idly the darting flight of the sparrows overhead; something in their noisy crying brought back the memory of the day when he bent half distracted over the unconscious form of Anat. "There is a God who can hear somewhere," he said half aloud. "For he both heard and answered the man who healed Anat; yet is it a great thing to heal blindness, I dare not ask him to help me find a beast of burden. Is there not some smaller god who cares for common things? \'Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your Father.\'" Where had he heard those words? It was John who had spoken them after the scourging before the council. "That means his father, not mine;" he went on meditatively, "I am not a Jew. Yet are there sparrows in Egypt also; if I pray to this God, he will not I suppose strike me dead; I will try and see what comes of it. God of this land--Jesus--if that be thy name! I am as thou seest an Egyptian, and I know not what offering is pleasing unto thee; and if I knew I could not provide it, for I am poorer than yonder sparrow. Yet if it be true that thou dost care for such, help me also, I pray thee, to find the white dromedary, which is justly required at my hands by the lord of the desert."

When he had prayed thus, a vague comfort stole into his heart; he opened his eyes and looking down the street, saw coming toward him two men. One of them he instantly recognized as the man in whose keeping he had left the dromedary; with a little cry of joy he started to his feet, but shrank back again into the archway, and seeing a broken place in the wall, he squeezed himself into it and stood motionless. "I will follow after them when they have passed by," he thought within himself. "It may be that so I shall come upon the beast unawares; if he sees me, it will not come to pass."

But the two paused beneath the archway, and finally sat down on the stones, neither of them noticing the motionless figure in the black shadow of the broken wall.

"Give me thy flask if thou hast in it a swallow of wine; I am parched with the heat," said the one who was called Gestas.

"I have no wine," replied the other; "water is better."

"Pah!" grunted Gestas testily, motioning away the proffered flask. "I do not drink water; \'tis fit only for the beasts."

"Thou art assuredly right, good friend; the best of the wine is not too good for thee. Do but a trifling service for me, and thou shalt not lack for the necessary gold."

"What wouldst thou?"

The Jew hesitated for a moment as if he scarcely knew how to proceed. Seth cautiously peered out from his hidden nook; he saw that the man was well dressed and had, moreover, an air of importance. He listened eagerly for his next words.

"Thou art the man who witnessed before Pilate against the malefactors, Dumachus and Titus, who afterward suffered with the Nazarene."

Gestas started visibly, he drew away a little and fixed his small twinkling eyes on his companion with a mixture of bravado and apprehension.

"What if I be?" he said at length. "I was discharged by the governor with but twenty stripes."

"Ay, but since then thou hast also--" here the speaker lowered his voice so that Seth lost what followed.

Gestas sprang to his feet with a great oath, and half drew his knife. "Thou knowest too much by half," he cried; "I am minded to send thee where thou mayest prate of this to the shades."

"Peace, braggart!" said his companion, a shade of contempt in his voice. "I am not unarmed. But thou canst see that had I spoken the word thou wouldst even now be rotting without the walls. I did not choose, because--thou canst serve me. Sit down and listen."

Gestas obeyed. "It is murder, I suppose," he said sullenly. "I know you all, you rich men! You force us poor devils to accomplish your black deeds, and dole out to us a scanty pittance from your hoarded gold; but if there be other recompense, such as the scourge or the cross, it is ours without grudging. Thirty pieces of silver they paid for the Nazarene; I know, for I saw it."

"What if it be thirty pieces of gold this time?" said the Jew softly. "The Iscariot was an ignorant Galilean; he was satisfied with the silver. It was enough," he added with a shrug, "for he hanged himself immediately thereafter because of his remorse. Now thou wouldst not do that, I dare venture?"

"I? Never! Else I had been dead a score of times already. But the matter in hand, what is it? I make no bargain, understand, till I know."

"\'Tis simple enough--and--safe. Only the disposal of a man without family, and--yes--without friends. He is moreover blood-guilty; his removal is therefore lawful."

"Why then dost thou----"

"Why do I not perform the deed myself? A proper question; thou hast understanding. It is--most sapient Gestas--not my affair. I represent another; that other is not in a position to avenge himself personally, nevertheless he will be avenged. Wilt thou undertake this--for thirty pieces of gold?"

"Ten pieces now--thirty afterward, and I will do it."

"Say five now!"

"Nay, ten; I have no mind to risk my life for a pittance."

The other produced his wallet, albeit with some show of reluctance, and passed it into the hand of Gestas. "There are just ten pieces within," he remarked. "Thou mayest count them."

Gestas fumbled over the coins deliberately, counting them in a sibilant whisper. "One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten. Yes ten--and a bit of silver." Then he lifted the pouch to the light and looked at it critically; "I will keep this also--and the silver," he added with a knowing leer.

"Of course, keep that also," said his companion, eying him with an inscrutable smile. "But I have not told thee the man\'s name. His head must thou deliver to me this very night at midnight, if thou wouldst receive the thirty pieces. It is known to me where thou art encamped with thy followers."

"I make no secret of that," said Gestas with a boastful laugh. "There is good water for our beasts in the valley of Hinnom, and it is not too far from the highway. If therefore thou wilt be in waiting just without the Jaffa gate, the head shall be delivered into thy hand at the hour named; if not t............