CHAPTER XX.
THE MERCHANT DEMETRIUS When on that fateful night in the Old Tower Miriam sprang forward to strike the lantern from the hand of the Jew, Nehushta, who was bending over the fallen Marcus and dragging at his body, did not even see that she had left the door.
With an effort, the slope of the rocky passage beyond favouring her, she half-drew, half-lifted the Roman through the entrance.

Then it was, as she straightened herself a little to take breath, that she heard the thud of the rock door closing behind her.

Still, as it was dark, she did not guess that Miriam was parted from them, for she said: "Ah! into what troubles do not these men lead us poor women.

Well, just in time, and I think that none of them saw us." There was no answer.

Sound could not pierce that wall and the place was silent as a tomb.
"Lady! In the Name of Christ, where are you, lady ?" asked Nehushta in a piercing whisper, and the echoes of the gallery answered--"Where are you, lady ?" Just then Marcus awoke.
"What has chanced?
What place is this, Miriam ?" he asked.
"This has chanced," answered Nehushta in the same awful voice.