When his thoughts returned to earth, he found the glittering eyes of the sorcerer fixed upon him.

“Seeing that thou dost live, tell me what sheltered thee in this harvest of death?” Jambres repeated.

“The Lord God of Israel, who reaped it.”

The answer was direct and fearless.  To the astonished priest who heard it, it seemed triumphant.

Each of the many emotions the sorcerer experienced, displayed itself, in turn, on his face,—­amazement, anger, censure, irresolution, distrust.  After a silence, he took up the scroll and made as if to return it to its hiding-place in the compartments under the table.

“Stay,” Kenkenes said, laying his hand on the sorcerer’s.  “Put it not away, for I shall carry it.  Shall I, being a believer in Israel’s God, be willing for the Pharaoh to pursue Israel?”

“Nay,” Jambres replied bluntly; “but thou wouldst stay him for Israel’s sake; I would prevent him for his own.”

“So the same end is accomplished, wherefore quarrel over the motive?  But when thou speakest of Israel’s sake, which, by the testimony of past events, is now the more imperiled, Egypt or Israel?”

“Egypt!  But it shall not be wholly overthrown through mine incautious trust of a messenger.”

The young man still retained his hold on the sorcerer’s hand.

“Thou dost impugn my fidelity.  Now, consider this.  I could have defeated thee and accomplished the Pharaoh’s undoing by refusing to carry the message, by keeping silence in yonder shed of image-makers.  Is it not so?”

Jambres assented.

“Even so.  Instead, I offered and now I insist.  Now, if thou deniest me, there is none to carry the warning and thou, thyself, hast undone the Pharaoh.”

The sorcerer put away the hand and showed no sign of softening.

“Nay, then,” Kenkenes said, “there is no need of the writing.  I shall warn the king by word of mouth.”  He turned away and walked swiftly toward the portals of the shrine.  Jambres beheld him recede into the dusk and wavered.

“Stay!” he called.

Kenkenes stopped.

“Wilt thou swear fidelity by the holy Name?”

“Aye, and by that holier Name of Jehovah, also.”

He returned and faced the priest.  “Thou art mystic, Father Jambres,” he said persuasively; “what does thy heart tell thee of me?”

“The supplication of the need indorses thee, as it indorses any desperate chance.  If thou art false, thou art the instrument of Set, whom the Hathors have given to overthrow Egypt.  If thou art true, the Pharaoh shall return safe to his capital in Memphis.  The gratitude of Egypt will be sufficient reward.”

“And I take the message?”

Jambres nodded.  “Art thou armed?” he asked, bending again to look into the compartment he had opened.

“Except for my dagger, nay.”

The sorcerer brought forth a falchion of that wondrous metal that could carve syenite granite and bite into porphyry; also, a pair of horse-hide sandals and a flat water-bottle.