ico.

He nodded.

"Well," said one of them, "you will wait for some time, for that house
is no longer fortunate. Its owner is dead, killed in the wars, and no
one knows who his heir may be."

"What was his name?" he asked.

"Marcus, the favourite of Nero, also called the Fortunate."

Then, with a bitter curse upon his lips Caleb turned and walked away.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE JUDGMENT OF DOMITIAN

Two hours had gone by and Caleb, with fury in his heart, sat brooding in
the office attached to the warehouse that he had hired. At that moment
he had but one desire--to kill his successful rival, Marcus. Marcus had
escaped and returned to Rome; of that there could be no doubt. He, one
of the wealthiest of its patricians, had furnished the vast sum which
enabled old Nehushta to buy the coveted Pearl-Maiden in the slave-ring.
Then his newly acquired property had been taken to this house, where he
awaited her. This then was the end of their long rivalry; for this he,
Caleb, had fought, toiled, schemed and suffered. Oh! rather than such a
thing should be, in that dark hour of his soul, he would have seen her
cast to the foul Domitian, for Domitian, at least, she would have hated,
whereas Marcus, he knew, she loved.

Now there remained nothing but revenge. Revenged he must be, but how?
He might dog Marcus and murder him, only then his own life would be
hazarded, since he knew well the fate that awaited the foreigner, and
most of all the Jew, who dared to lift his hand against a Roman noble,
and if he hired others to do the work they might bear evidence against
him. Now Caleb did not wish to die; life seemed the only good that he
had left. Also, while he lived he might still win Miriam--after his
rival had ceased to live. Doubtless, then she would be sold with his
other slaves, and he could buy her at the rate such tarnished goods
command. No, he would do nothing to run himself into danger. He would
wait, wait and watch his opportunity.

It was near at hand, for of old as to-day the king of evil was ever
ready to aid those who called upon him with sufficient earnestness.
Indeed, even as Caleb sat there in his office, there came a knock upon
the door.

"Open!" he cried savagely, and through it entered a small man with
close-cropped hair and a keen, hard face which seemed familiar to him.
Just now, however, that face was somewhat damaged, for one of the
eyes had been blackened and a wound upon the temple was strapped
wi