Son And Holy Spirit of God. Thou
art worthy to be forever praised by holy voices, O Son of God; thou
givest life to us, And therefore doth the world glorify thee."

Mocking cries arose from the mob. Not daring to linger longer,
Athribis ran out of the house, and hastened homeward, full of
apprehension as to what might await him.

"Where are the lentiles?" asked the slave by the threshold, as
Athribis, forgetful, in his excitement, of the excuse he had made
for his departure, passed swiftly and softly in.

"I found none," quickly answered Athribis, with alarm.

He sped silently to his former place of work, and fell to polishing
the pavement with a zeal unknown before. He knew well enough that
the slave by the threshold would not believe in that excuse,
lentiles being plentiful enough. Terror had robbed Athribis'
deceitful tongue of its usual cunning, and now he silently bewailed
his startled answer. If the slave by the threshold should report to
Heraklas' mother the fact that Athribis had been away!

Athribis longed to have time to unroll the scrolls which he had
hidden in his garment, but he dared not look at them till he should
be alone.

A voice sounded in the court. Athribis redoubled his zeal: He
recognized the tones of Heraklas' mother.

"I was not long gone! I was not long gone!" the guilty Athribis
hastily assured himself. "Surely she hath hated the Christians, even
as I hate them! I was gone but a moment! Surely she cannot know! If
I find treasure in my rolls, I will give some to the slave by the
threshold. Surely, treasure is as dumbness to a man!"

The footsteps of the mother of Heraklas drew near. The servant bowed
over his work, and dared not lift his eyes. She did not stop! And
Athribis looked breathlessly after the woman, as she passed
majestically on.

"Surely she hath not known what I did!" he gasped as the stately
figure disappeared among the columns. "Isis preserveth me from
stripes! My feet are unbeaten!"

Athribis waited till night, when the household slept. Then he crept
out of the little chamber on the roof where the slaves were wont to
sleep, according to the custom of Egyptian households.

A dim thread of a moon floated toward the west. Athribis crept to a
far part of the roof. The wind blew somewhat, but it did not cool
the fever of excitement felt by him. Within a moment he might be
rich! He might find gold in these scrolls!

He drew out the scrolls. Surely there was something