The tabulated statement, ready for forwarding, lies on the table of the tribune in command; in five minutes more it will be on the way to Pilate, sojourning in the palace up on Mount Zion.
The tribune's office is spacious and cool, and furnished in a style suitable to the dignity of the commandant of a post in every respect so important.

Looking in upon him about the seventh hour of the day, the officer appears weary and impatient; when the report is despatched, he will to the roof of the colonnade for air and exercise, and the amusement to be had watching the Jews over in the courts of the Temple.

His subordinates and clerks share his impatience.
In the spell of waiting a man appeared in a doorway leading to an adjoining apartment.

He rattled a bunch of keys, each heavy as a hammer, and at once attracted the chief's attention.
"Ah, Gesius! come in," the tribune said.
As the new-comer approached the table behind which the chief sat in an easy-chair, everybody present looked at him, and, observing a certain expression of alarm and mortification on his face, became silent that they might hear what he had to say.
"O tribune!" he began, bending low, "I fear to tell what now I bring you." "Another mistake--ha, Gesius ?" "If I could persuade myself it is but a mistake, I would not be afraid." "A crime then--or, worse, a breach of duty.

Thou mayst laugh at Caesar, or curse the gods, and live; but if the offence be to the eagles--ah, thou knowest, Gesius--go on!" "It is now about eight years since Valerius Gratus selected me to be keeper of prisoners here in the Tower," said the man, deliberately.
"I remember the morning I entered upon the duties of my office.
There had been a riot the day before, and fighting in the streets.
We slew many Jews, and suffered on our side.