Timokles knew, as well as if she had spoken, that she was one of
those who had seen him dragged to the leopard's home. He looked
beseechingly at her now, as she stood transfixed, the shocked
expression deepening in her eyes. If she should say a word! Timokles
could feel himself tremble. She had thought him dead! She knew him!
If she should say so!
The silent appeal of Timokles' beseeching face seemed to find its
answer for the moment. The girl turned toward the work of the idol-
makers. No one beside Timokles had noticed her frightened gaze. Now,
with assumed carelessness, she watched her brother's busy fingers,
yet Timokles felt that her thoughts were of him. She had only to
speak; to say, "This is the Christian who was thrown to the
leopard," and father and son would drop their work, spring upon him,
drag him back all the way to the building from which he had escaped,
and toss him, bound and helpless, to the leopard.
It was not till nearly dark that the idol-makers ceased their work.
Having eaten dried dates and barley bread, the father and the son,
first tightening Timokles' thongs, went away in the direction of the
far distant village. During their absence, the girl came to
Timokles, bringing him water and dried dates.
"Tell me, O Christian," she whispered in the tongue of Egypt, "art
thou not he?"
She needed not to make the question more explicit.
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