for he was very cautious in his
movements, and tested every step he took. He carefully approached
one of the holes of the roof, and, kneeling, put his face down to
the aperture.

The man spoke, and, by his tones, Timokles recognized Pentaur the
merchant.

"Oh, Christian!" cried Pentaur into the depth of the building,
"livest thou? Ill shall I fare at the judgment of Osiris for this
day's deed!"

There was silence.

Perhaps, from the darkness of the room below, Pentaur could see the
shining of the brute's eyes, or hear his uneasy stepping to and fro.
Something sent a shudder of horror through the man.

"I have taken pleasure in righteousness," he protested. "I have
heretofore done no injury to men who honored their gods. Oh, Osiris,
I have been righteous!"

There was an awful horror in the man's voice. Timokles was moved
with compassion for his former owner, and yet the lad kept silent.

"Shall I speak to him?" Timokles questioned himself. "If he shall be
beset in some other place by those who hate Christians, will he not
abandon me again to my enemies?"

The merchant waited a moment longer.

"Oh, Osiris!" then he wailed again, "I have been righteous! He was
only a Christian!"

The merchant sprang up, and sped toward the edge of the roof where
he had first appeared. His foot plunged to its ankle through a weak
place in the mats. He shrieked aloud at the fear of falling through
into the room below. Hurrying forward, he disappeared down the side
of the building. Timokles heard the man running among the fallen
stones. The footsteps grew faint, and ceased to be audible.

Timokles drew a breath of thankfulness. He crept and felt in the
dark for a few, scattered dates that he had before noticed lying
near the roof's edge, the fruit having fallen from a date palm and
having lain there till nearly as dry as shards. But there was still
nutriment left in the dates, and, having eaten nothing since
morning, he gnawed the fruit.

He could not descend by the date palm's trunk, for that was too far
from the roof to be reached by him. The palm's straight trunk shot
up twenty cubits above the roof's level, and, after the manner of
the date palm's growth, bore no branches, such as the doum palm has.

"How did Pentaur climb?" thought Timokles.

The lad passed to the other edge, where the merchant had
disappeared. Here, a little lower as yet than the roof, he found a
group of young doum palms, the branching stems of whic