"Set spare thee and thine infamous master to me!" he exclaimed
violently.
The Nubian retreated a little, for Kenkenes had strained toward him.
"Get him into the four walls of a cell," the Nubian urged the guards.
"I may not lose him again, as I value my head."
The guards started out of the doors and Kenkenes went with them,
unresisting, but not passively. All the thoughts were his that can
come to a man, on whose freedom depend another's life and happiness.
Added to these was an all-consuming hate of her enemy and his, new-fed
by this latest offense from Har-hat. With difficulty he kept the
tumult of his emotions from manifesting themselves to his captors.
They feared that his calm was ominous, and held him tightly.
The necropolis was not astir and the streets were wind-haunted. The
tread of the six men set dogs to barking, and only now and then was a
face shown at the doorways. For this Kenkenes thanked his gods, for he
was proud, and the eye of the humblest slave upon him in his
humiliating plight would have hurt him more keenly than blows.
The prison was a square building of rough stone, flat-roofed, three
stories in height. The red walls were broken at regular intervals by
crevices, barred with bronze.
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