“Thinkest thou so of a truth?” Kenkenes asked earnestly.

“Of a truth.  Thou seest the plight of the nation.  Can it endure longer?  And if thou takest this Israelite to wife—­” He paused abruptly, for he had pressed the problem and a solution opened itself so suddenly that it staggered him.  Kenkenes understood the pause.  Again he laid his hand on the murket’s sleeve.

“On this very matter would I take counsel with thee, my father,” he said gently.  “The night grows, and my time is short.”

Mentu turned an unhappy face toward his son and followed him back to the bench they had left.  He felt, intuitively, that there was further grave purpose in the young man’s mind and there was dread in his paternal heart.

“Thou knowest, my father,” Kenkenes began, “that I may not give over my love for Rachel.  I am free to love her and she to love me.  There is no obstacle between us.  Such love, therefore, in the sight of heaven, becometh a duty and carrieth duty with it.  In the spirit I am as though I had been bound to her by the marrying priests.  Her griefs are mine to comfort, her wrongs mine to avenge.

“She is gone and there are these three surmises as to her whereabouts.  She may have escaped and returned to Goshen; she may have wandered to death in the Nile; she may have been taken by Har-hat.”

He paused, and Mentu gazed fixedly at the lamp.

“I am going to Tanis,” Kenkenes began, with forced restraint.

“Wherefore?” Mentu demanded.

“To discover if Har-hat hath taken her!”

“Go on.”

“If he hath the Lord God make iron of my hands till I strangle him!”

“Madman!” Mentu exclaimed.  “Thou wilt be flayed!”

“Be assured that I shall earn the flaying!  The punishment shall be no more savage than the deed that invites it!  But enough of that.  If I go to Tanis and find her the spoil of the fan-bearer, thine augury will hold, I return not to Memphis. . . .  If she was lost in the Nile—!”

“Nay!  Nay! put away the thought if it wrench thee so.  No man removed from his place during that night.  We were caught and transfixed at what we did.  For three days I sat in the court, where I was overtaken by the darkness, and in that time I stirred not except to slip down on the bench and sleep.  The palsy seized all Memphis likewise—­not one of my neighbors moved.  But the resident Hebrews of the city seemed to have been warned, or else the favor of their strange God was with them.  For it is said they came and went as they willed, carrying lamps.”

Kenkenes looked at his father with growing hope.

“If that be true,” he said eagerly, “if the palsy fell upon Egypt and not upon Israel, Rachel may have fled safely—­she may have escaped them!” Mentu assented with a nod.

“She may have returned to her people,” Kenkenes went on.  “And if she be in Goshen I must reach her, find her, before her people depart.  Having found her—­” but Kenkenes stopped and made no effort to resume.  Mentu set his teeth, his hands clenched and his whole figure seemed to denote intense physical restraint.  Suddenly he whirled upon his son.