ner to him."

"My lord," the high-priest objected, "our law is such that if we enter the
palace we cannot officiate at the Passover to-night."

Pilate appeared to reflect. "I suppose," he said at last, "I might ask him
whether he would care to come here. In which case," he added, with a
gesture of elaborate courtesy, "you may remain uncontaminated where you
are. Ressala!"

An official stepped forward; an order was given; he disappeared. Presently
a massive throne of sandalwood and gold was trundled out. Caiaphas had
seen it before, and in it--Herod.

"The justice that comes from there," he muttered, "is as a snake that
issues from a tomb."

His words were drowned in the clamors of the crowd. The sun had crossed
the zenith; in its rays the waters that gushed from the fountain-mouths of
bronze lions fell in rainbows and glistened in great basins that glistened
too. There was sunlight everywhere, a sky of untroubled blue, and from the
Temple beyond came a glare that radiated from Olivet to Bethlehem.

Pilate was bored. The mantle which Mary wore caught his eye, and he looked
at her, wondering how she came in his wife's apartment, and where he had
seen her before. Her face was familiar, but the setting vague. Then at
once he remembered. It was at Machaerus he had seen her, gambling with the
emir, while Salome danced. She was with Antipas, of course. He looked
again; she had gone.

The Sanhedrim consulted nervously. The new turn of affairs was not at all
to their liking. The clamors of the mob continued. Once a fanatic pushed
against a soldier. There was a thud, a howl, and a mouth masked with
liquid red gasped to the sun and was seen no more.

Behind the procurator came a movement. The officials massed about the
entrance parted in uneven ranks, and in the great vestibule beyond,
Antipas appeared. Pilate rose to greet him. The elders made obeisance. The
tetrarch moved forward and seated himself in his father's throne. At his
side was Pahul, the butler, balancing himself flamingowise on one leg, his
bold eyes foraging the priests.

Caiaphas formulated the complaint anew, very majestically this time, and,
thinking perhaps to overawe the tetrarch, his voice assumed the authority
of a guardian of the keys of heaven, a chamberlain of the sceptres of the
earth.

Antipas ignored him utterly. He plucked at his fan-shaped beard, and
stared at the Christ. He could see now he bore no resemblance to Iohanan.
There was nothin