Before the sound of the Maccabee's furious approach reached Julian, the Ephesian whirled.
Towering over him, the very picture of retribution, was the man he had left, apparently dead by his hand, by the roadside in the hills of Judea months and months before.
For an instant, Julian stood petrified.

Over his lips came a faint, frozen whisper that Laodice heard--that was proof enough to her, the moment after.
"Philadelphus--Maccabaeus!" When his outraged kinsman put out vengeful hands to seize him, the Maccabee grasped the air.

Julian of Ephesus had vanished! * * * * * Among the rocks at the base of the cliff that sheltered Christian Pella from the rude winds of the Perean mountains, the procurator of the city, Philadelphus Maccabaeus, and his wife, Laodice, sat side by side in the morning sun.

There was a path little wider than a man's hand wandering along below them toward a well in the hollow of the rocks.

Along this way, in early morning, Joseph, the shepherd, was in the habit of driving his sheep to drink.