The room into which the young sculptor was conducted was too large to be lighted by the two lamps, hung from hooks, one at each end of the chamber.  Down either side, hidden in the shadows, were long benches, and from the huddled heap that occupied the full length of each, it was to be surmised that men were sleeping on them.  Above them the slatted blinds had been withdrawn from the small windows and the morning breeze was blowing strongly through the chamber.  At the upper end was another table, similar to the one in the outer room, except for a napkin in the middle with a bottle of water set upon it.  An Egyptian woman stood beside this table and gave the young man a wooden stool.

As Kenkenes walked toward the seat a stronger blast of wind puffed out the light above his head.  The woman climbed up to take the lamp down and set it on the table while she relighted it.  The skirt of her dress caught on the top of the stool she had mounted and pulled it over on the wooden floor with a sharp sound.

One of the sleepers stirred at the noise and turned over.  Presently he sat up.

Kenkenes righted the stool and sat down on it, the light shining in his face.  He saw the guest in the shadow shake off the light covering and walk swiftly through the door into the outer chamber.

Meanwhile the silent woman served her guest with cold baked water-fowl, endives, cucumbers, wheat bread and grapes, and a weak white wine.  Kenkenes ate deliberately, and consumed all that was set before him.  When he had made an end, he paid his reckoning to the woman and returned into the outer chamber.

At the doors, he was confronted by four members of the city constabulary and a Nubian in a striped tunic.

“Seize him!” the Nubian cried.  Instantly the four men flung themselves upon Kenkenes and pinioned his arms.

“Nay, by the gods,” he exclaimed angrily.  “What mean you?”

“Parley not with him,” the Nubian said in excitement.  “Get him in bonds stronger than the grip of hands.  He is muscled like a bull.”

The young sculptor looked at the Nubian.  He had seen him before—­had had unpleasant dealings with him.  And then he remembered, so suddenly and so fiercely that his captors felt the sinews creep in his arms.

“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.