The question was out before he realized his danger.
What if this stranger were an enemy? He could not even see his face.

The man's answer was cautious. "Some men went by here a few minutes
ago." The voice seemed familiar to Peter. "Did they have a prisoner?" he
asked.

"The torches were too dim for me to see." Peter forgot to thank the
stranger in his haste to overtake Jesus. He rounded the next corner,
running, then stopped short. Flickering straight ahead of him were
torches. Soon he was close enough behind the men who carried them to see
more clearly. The yellow flames threw weird patterns on the houses:
shadows of men twisted and dodged on the walls as the torchbearers swung
the lights to and fro. Peter followed cautiously, coming no closer than
necessary. His heart leaped when he heard a step behind him. He jerked
around and saw a young priest. Fear clutched at him. He was trapped!
Before he could move, the man spoke. "There they are." Peter recognized
the voice. It was the person he had run into a moment before! The priest
looked at him curiously and exclaimed, "You were with the Galilean,
weren't you?"

A denial sprang to Peter's lips. Then he recognized the priest: it was
the student who had come to the Hill of Olives that very morning! "What
are they going to do?" Peter could keep back his anxiety no longer.

The young priest shook his head gravely. "I fear the worst. Look! They
have stopped!" He pointed. The torches shone on a heavy wooden gate. It
swung open, and the group started to enter.

"Let's follow them in," urged the priest.

"Oh, no!" protested Peter. "They will recognize me. They wouldn't let me
in anyway." But the priest was already hastening ahead. Peter followed.
His friend entered with the last of the group, and the gates swung shut.

A servant woman stood outside to question everyone who wanted to go into
the house of the high priest. Torches fastened to the walls on each
side of the gate threw a pool of yellow light on the street. Peter could
hear many people inside; torchlight flickered on the high walls of the
palace of the high priest, rising behind the gate. Driven by curiosity,
Peter came closer and closer. The woman looked at him but said nothing.
Peter hid his face; he was glad the torches were smoky and low.

Suddenly the gate opened, and Peter saw his friend. "Let this man in,"
he ordered the servant woman. There was nothing for Peter to do but go
in. As soon as he stepped in