Nehushta rose and faced him.
"Praise be to God! there you are at length," he said.

"Thrice have I been up this stair wondering why Miriam did not come." "Brother Ithiel," answered Nehushta, "Miriam will come no more; she is gone, leaving us in exchange this man Marcus, the Roman prefect of Horse." "What do you mean?
What do you mean ?" he gasped.

"Where is Miriam ?" "In the hands of the Jews," she answered.

Then she told him all that story.
"There is nothing to be done," he moaned when she had finished.

"To open the door now would be but to reveal the secret of our hiding-place to the Jews or to the Romans, either of whom would put us to the sword, the Jews for food, the Romans because we are Jews.