when he has done counting out that gold."

"Do you know what I have heard about the Jews?" asked the first speaker,
drawing his comrades still further aside.

"What?" was the general question.

"That they kill Christian children to mix the blood in the dough with
which they make the bread used at their religious ceremonies," answered
the sbirro.

"Depend upon it. Isaachar has murdered a Christian child for that
purpose!" said one of his companions.

This atrocious idea gained immediate belief among the ignorant sbirri;
and as the Jew now quitted the room for a few moments to secure the gold
which he had just received, in his coffer in the adjacent apartment, the
police officers had leisure to point out to their superior the traces of
blood which they had noticed, and the suspicion which these marks had
engendered.

The lieutenant was not further removed beyond the influence of popular
prejudice and ridiculous superstition than even his men: and though by
no means of a cruel disposition, yet he thought it no sin nor injustice
to persecute the Hebrew race, even when innocent and unoffending. But,
now that suspicion, or what he chose to consider suspicion, pointed at
Isaachar ben Solomon as a dreadful criminal, the lieutenant did not
hesitate many moments how to act.

Thus, when the Jew returned to the room with the fond hope of seeing his
visitors take their speedy departure, he was met by the terrible words,
uttered by the officer of the sbirri. "In the name of the most high
inquisition, Isaachar, do I make you my prisoner!"

The unhappy Jew fell upon his knees, stunned, terrified by the appalling
announcement; and although he assumed this attitude of supplication, he
had not the power to utter a syllable of intercession or of prayer.
Horror had for the moment stricken him dumb: and a thousand images of
terror, conjured up by the fearful words, "the inquisition," suddenly
sprung up to scare, bewilder and overwhelm him.

"Bind him, gag him!" ejaculated the lieutenant: and this order was
immediately obeyed: for whenever a prisoner was about to be conveyed to
the dungeons of the inquisition, he was invariably gagged, in order that
no questions on his part might evoke answers at all calculated to afford
him a clew to the cause of his arrest.

This precaution was originally adopted in reference to those only who
were ignorant of the charges laid against them: but it had subsequently
become common in all cases of a