“Greeting, servant of Amaryllis,” he said.  “I am your lady’s expected guest.”

The Greek came forth from the square formed by his guard.

“I am that servant of Amaryllis,” he said courteously.  “But show me yet another sign.”

The Ephesian drew from his bosom the Maccabaean signet and flashed its blue fires at the Greek.  The servant stepped hastily between the soldiers and the new-comer.

“Thy name?” he asked in a whisper.

“I am Philadelphus Maccabaeus.”

The servant bent and taking the hem of the woolen tunic pressed it to his lips.

“Happy hour!” he exclaimed.  “I pray you follow me.”

The pretender breathed a relieved sigh and joined his protector.

They passed down into Akra and approached the straight column of pungent smoke towering up from a charred heap that the Ephesian in spite of his haste inspected curiously.

“What is that?” he asked of the Greek.

“That, master, is the city granaries.”

“The granaries!” the Ephesian cried, aghast.

The Greek inclined his head.

“What—­what—­fired them?” the Ephesian asked.

“John and Simon differed on the point of its control and each fired it to keep the other from possessing it!”

For a moment the Ephesian was thunderstruck.  Then he quickened his pace.

“By the horns of Capricornus!” he avowed.  “The sooner one gets out of this, the wiser he must be counted!”

The Greek looked at him with lifted brows and led on.

They crossed the Tyropean Valley and approached a small new house of stone, abutting the vast retaining wall that was built against Moriah.  A line of soldiers was thrown out from the entrance to the house and his conductor, after whispering a word to the captain, led the way up to a double-barred door.  A long time after he had rapped, there was the sound of falling chains and the door swung open.  A second Greek servant of no less beauty bowed the new-comer and his companion within.  The noise of the streets was suddenly cut off.  Soft dusk and quiet proved that the doors of Amaryllis had been shut upon unhappy Jerusalem.

The second servant drew a cord and a roller of matting lifted and showed a skylight.  Philadelphus the pretender was in the andronitis of a Greek house.

It was typical.  None but a Greek with the purest taste had planned it.  Walls and pavement were of unpolished marble, lusterless white.  A marble exedra built in a semicircle sat in the farther end, facing a chair wholly of ivory set beside a lectern of dull brass.  At either end of the exedra on a pedestal formed by the arms, a brass staff upheld a flat lamp that cast its luster down on the seat by night.  Against an opposite wall built at full length of the hall, was a pigeonholed case, which was stacked with brass cylinders.  This was the library of the Greek.  At a third side was a compound arch concealed by a heavy white curtain.  There were low couches spread with costly white material which were used when Amaryllis set her table in her andronitis, and at the arches leading into the interior of the house there were draperies.  But the chamber, with all its richness, had a splendid emptiness that made it imposing, not luxurious.