His foot
plunged through a mat. He recovered himself, and crawling to a
little distance from the hole, he lay down on the roof. The sun was
high in the heavens, but all the world became black to Timokles.
He lay there, faint, for hours. When he could look up at last, the
sun was descending toward the west. Far overhead sailed the sacred
hawk of Egypt, and the bird's piercing cry, full of melancholy,
reached Timokles' ears. The shadow of a palm tree stretched outward
and touched him.
"Oh, God!" whispered Timokles reverently, "Thou west Daniel's God.
Thou art mine!"
Night had fallen. Timokles, lying in the dark, heard a sound beside
the building. Some one was coming!
Timokles crept to the roof's edge farthest from the sound, and lay
down.
The head of a man appeared above the roof's level. Evidently he was
not accustomed to the roof, for he was very cautious in his
movements, and tested every step he took. He carefully approached
one of the holes of the roof, and, kneeling, put his face down to
the aperture.
The man spoke, and, by his tones, Timokles recognized Pentaur the
merchant.
"Oh, Christian!" cried Pentaur into the depth of the building,
"livest thou? Ill shall I fare at the judgment of Osiris for this
day's deed!"
There was silence.
Perhaps, from the darkness of the room below, Pentaur could see the
shining of the brute's eyes, or hear his uneasy stepping to and fro.
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