motor, a dozen crouching men sprang out.

Five minutes later, amid the mocking, jeering laughter of their
captors, they were being taken to the city--only not together. Miriam
was forced to ride _in_ the car seated by the side of their betrayer,
the man whom she hated, and whose love-overtures she had scorned and
repulsed. Her wrists and her ankles were bound with cords, and she had
been lifted into the car, bodily, by the man of her hate. To humble
her and to shame her, the cur had kissed her again and again before her
captive lover, then with a carefully judged malice, he had seated her,
by his side, on the seat that _faced_ the rear of the car, so that her
captive-lover would be further tormented by the sight of her, compelled
to accept his, his rival's, caresses.

Isaac Wolferstein was cruelly bound, fastened to the rear of the car,
and made to stumble over the road, and often to be dragged, when the
pace of the car carried him off his feet. Once or twice he almost
fainted, for the soles of his feet were skinned--his captors had
purposely divested him of his shoes and socks. The ants found out the
bare, bleeding feet and added torment to his pain.

The city was astir as the car entered. The news was shouted from the
car, that one of the accursed, who defied "The Lord, Apleon," had been
captured, and was to be tortured in the Broadway.

* * * * * *

The great open space was crowded with people. As, of old, the Roman
populace gathered in holiday, theatre mood to see the Christians
tortured and slain, so had this great concourse gathered about the
beautiful Miriam, and her handsome lover Isaac Wolferstein.

One of the Kiosks, from which "Covenant" brands were worked, was
opened, and the spring instrument was brought out. Apleon's chaplain
was there, and in a voice heard clearly by everyone at the farthest
remove from him, he asked:

"Isaac Wolferstein, will you worship "The Lord Apleon?"

Wolferstein was hoarse with pain and thirst, but lifting his head
proudly, he looked the "_False Prophet_" full in the eyes, as he cried
fearlessly:

"Never! Apleon, is a demon, and of his father Beelzebub!"

"Silence, you beast!" yelled his tormenter, and he struck him across
the lips with the stick he carried. Then he turned towards the
beautiful Jewess, saying:

"Miriam Cohen. Will you worship our Lord Apleon, and wear his brand?"

"Never!" she cried.

He spat at her, as he