wide street as empty
as was the stair.

The rest is known to us. He followed, and twice perceived the little
group of dark-robed figures hurrying round distant corners. Once he
lost them altogether, but a passer-by on his road to some feast told him
courteously enough which way they had gone. On he ran almost at hazard,
to be rewarded in the end by the sight of them vanishing through a
narrow doorway in the wall. He came to the door and saw that it was very
massive. He tried it even, it was locked. Then he thought of knocking,
only to remember that to state his business would probably be to meet
his death. At such a place and hour those who purchased beautiful slaves
might have a sword waiting for the heart of an unsuccessful rival who
dared to follow them to their haunts.

Caleb walked round the house, to find that it was a palace which seemed
to be deserted, although he thought that he saw light shining through
one of the shuttered windows. Now he knew the place again. It was here
that the procession had halted and one of the Roman soldiers who had
committed the crime of being taken captive escaped the taunts of the
crowd by hurling himself beneath the wheel of a great pageant car. Yes,
there was no doubt of it, for his blood still stained the dusty stones
and by it lay a piece of the broken distaff with which, in their
mockery, they had girded the poor man. They were gentle folk, these
Romans! Why, measured by this standard, some such doom would have fallen
upon his rival, Marcus, for Marcus also was taken prisoner--by himself.
The thought made Caleb smile, since well he knew that no braver soldier
lived. Then came other thoughts that pressed him closer. Somewhere in
that great dead-looking house was Miriam, as far off from him as though
she were still in Judaea. There was Miriam--and who was with her? The
new-found lord who had spent two thousand sestertia on her purchase? The
thought of it almost turned his brain.

Heretofore, the life of Caleb had been ruled by two passions--ambition
and the love of Miriam. He had aspired to be ruler of the Jews, perhaps
their king, and to this end had plotted and fought for the expulsion of
the Romans from Judaea. He had taken part in a hundred desperate battles.
Again and again he had risked his life; again and again he had escaped.
For one so young he had reached high rank, till he was numbered among
the first of their captains.

Then came the end, the last hideous struggl