They were those of a living skeleton, for the bones stood out, and over them the yellow skin was drawn like shrivelled parchment; only the deep sunk eyes still shone round and bright.

Oh! she knew the face.

It was that of Theophilus the Essene, a past president of the order indeed, who had been her friend from earliest childhood and the master who taught her languages in those far-off happy years which she spent in the village by the Dead Sea.

This Theophilus she had found dwelling with the Essenes in their cavern home, and none of them had welcomed her more warmly.

Some ten days ago, against the advice of Ithiel and others, he had insisted on creeping out to take the air and gather news in the city.