A moment later the curtains over the arch parted and a middle-aged Jew, richly habited, stood there.  He raised his hand for the blessing of the threshold, then embraced Costobarus with more warmth than ceremony.

“What is this I hear?” he demanded with affectionate concern.  “Thou leavest Ascalon for the peril of Jerusalem?”

“Can Jerusalem be more perilous than Ascalon this hour?” Costobarus asked.

“Yes, by our fathers!” Philip declared.  “Nothing can be so bad as the condition of the Holy City.  But what has happened?  Three days ago thou wast as securely settled here as a barnacle on a shore-rock!  To-day thou sendest me word:  ’Lo! the time long expected hath come; I go hence to Jerusalem.’  What is it, my brother?”

“Sit and listen.”

Philip looked about him.  The divan was there, stripped of its covering of fine rugs, but the room otherwise was without furniture.  Prepared for surprise, the Tyrian let no sign of his curiosity escape him, and, sitting, leaned on his knees and waited.

“Philadelphus Maccabaeus hath sent to me, bidding me send Laodice to him—­in Jerusalem,” Costobarus said in a low voice.

Philip’s eyes widened with sudden comprehension.

“He hath returned!” he exclaimed in a whisper.

For a time there was silence between the two old men, while they gazed at each other.  Then Philip’s manner became intensely confident.

“I see!” he exclaimed again, in the same whisper.  “The throne is empty!  He means to possess it, now that Agrippa hath abandoned it!”

Costobarus pressed his lips together and bowed his head emphatically.  Again there was silence.

“Think of it!” Philip exclaimed presently.

“I have done nothing else since his messenger arrived at daybreak.  Little, little, did I think when I married Laodice to him, fourteen years ago, that the lad of ten and the little child of four might one day be king and queen over Judea!”

Philip shook his head slowly and his gaze settled to the pavement.  Presently he drew in a long breath.

“He is twenty-four,” he began thoughtfully.  “He has all the learning of the pagans, both of letters and of war; he—­Ah!  But is he capable?”

“He is the great-grandson of Judas Maccabaeus!  That is enough!  I have not seen him since the day he wedded Laodice and left her to go to Ephesus, but no man can change the blood of his fathers in him.  And Philip—­he shall have no excuse to fail.  He shall be moneyed; he shall be moneyed!”

Costobarus leaned toward his friend and with a sweep of his hand indicated the stripped room.  It was a noble chamber.  The stamp of the elegant simplicity of Cyrus, the Persian, was upon it.  The ancient blue and white mosaics that had been laid by the Parsee builder and the fretwork and twisted pillars were there, but the silky carpets, the censers and the chairs of fine woods were gone.  Costobarus looked steadily at the perplexed countenance of Philip.