“Where,” he began when her mind wandered entirely from him, “dost thou think the mysterious man hath taken my other wife?

“I would I knew,” he continued, conducting his inquiry alone.  “It will be right simple to have her beauty spoiled in this hungry town, unless he takes tenderest care of her.”

There was still no comment, but the lively sparkle in the Greek’s eye showed that he had touched upon a jealous spot.

“And by the by,” he pursued, “what does this stranger, whom I can not remember having known, look like?  A villain?”

She answered now in a voice filled with rancor.

“Win away the girl from him and thou wilt know thyself to be the better man; but study how much he hath outstripped thee and thou shalt decide for thyself, then, that he is handsomer, more winsome, stronger and more profitable.  Describe him for thyself.”

“Out upon you!  How irritable misfortune makes most of us!  Now, here is my lady.  She would fail to see the humor in my fetching back this pretty impostor.  Alas!  Were I Deucalion or Pyrrha or whoever else it was that repeopled the world, I should have left jealousy out of the make-up of wives.  It is a needless element.  It gives them no pleasure, and Jove! how inconvenient it is for husbands!  Now, I am not jealous of my wife.  In fact, had any man the hardihood to supplant me, I should not discourage him; I should not, by my soul!”

“Why,” she burst out again, irritated beyond control at his manner, “do you not leave this place?”

He swung his foot idly and smiled.

“I shall when I can take with me this dear pretty impostor who is so determined to have me,” he answered lightly.

“Will you?” she asked eagerly.  “Is that why you remain?”

“And for my lady’s dowry.  She keeps the key.  But had I the girl cloaked and hooded for flight, I might go, even without the treasure.  The times are precarious, you observe.”

She rose almost precipitately and hurried over to the swaying curtain of some heavy white material like samite, covering that which appeared to be a blind arch in the wall.  She drew the hanging aside.  It had hidden the black mouth of a tunnel, closed by a brass wicket which was locked.

“Here,” she said rapidly, “is what strengthens John in his folly.  This is a passage that leads under the Temple through Moriah into Tophet.  The whole city is underlaid with these galleries, but this is the only one which leads to safety.”

She dropped the curtain and approached him.

“But thou canst not go out of that passage alone!”

He smiled, and then with that boyish impulsiveness that he had cultivated to cover the evil in his nature, he thrust out his hand to her.

“Here is my hand on it!” he exclaimed.

“Go, then, and cease not till you have found her.  Then, by any or all the gods, I shall see that you do not go out of that passage empty-handed.”