"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I
see you once again. My Christian master!"
The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone.
Timokles looked around, bewildered. A quiver passed over his lips.
Athribis reminded him of home.
"Is my mother here?" asked Timokles. A sorrow deeper than tears
looked from his eyes.
Athribis smiled. "Thy mother!" he said.
The tone was a sufficient answer. Timokles' eyes fell.
"Thou wilt never see her again," went on Athribis. "Thy mother
hateth thee! She is faithful to Egypt's gods, if thou art not! I
came here only to be certain thou wert on the ship."
"Camest thou from her to me on that errand?" asked Timokles calmly.
Athribis laughed, and turned to go.
"Farewell, my Christian master! Farewell!" said the slave,
mockingly.
There was an instant's silence. The great lion sighed from his cage.
Then answered Timokles' low voice, "O Athribis, may my God become
thine, also!"
A laugh came, as the slave's reply. Athribis and his conductor went
away. The light faded from the hold.
Heraklas crept near the Christians.
"Timokles!" he whispered. "Timokles! O Timokles, my brother!"
CHAPTER VIII.
From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though
there was a startled movement among them.
"O my brother! my brother!" murmured Heraklas, the tears running
down his face in the dark, "I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!"
"Heraklas!" cried Timokles, "Heraklas! How camest thou hither?"
"Peace!" whispered Heraklas in terror.
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