“What is it?” asked Benoni shortly.

“Master, a young lord named Caleb wishes speech with you.”

“Caleb?  I know not the name,” replied Benoni.  “Stay, it must be the son of Hilliel, whom the Roman governor”—­and turning, he spat upon the ground—­“has brought to his own again.  I heard that he had come to take possession of the great house on the quay.  Bring him hither.”

The Arab saluted and went.  Presently he returned and ushered in Caleb, now a noble-looking young man clad in fine raiment.  Benoni bowed to him and prayed him to be seated.  Caleb bowed in return, touching his forehead in Eastern fashion with his hand, from which, as his host noticed, the forefinger was missing.

“I am your servant, sir,” said Benoni with grave courtesy.

“Master, I am your slave,” answered Caleb.  “I have been told that you knew my father; therefore, on this, my first visit to Tyre, I come to make my respects to you.  I am the son of Hilliel, who perished many years ago in Jerusalem.  You may have heard his story and mine.”

“Yes,” answered Benoni scanning his visitor, “I knew Hilliel—­a clever man, but one who fell into a trap at last, and I see that you are his son.  Your face proves it; indeed, it might be Hilliel who stands before me.”

“I am proud that you should say so,” answered Caleb, though already he guessed that between Benoni and his father no love had been lost.  “You know,” he added, “that certain of our people seized my inheritance, which now has been restored to me—­in part.”

“By Gessius Florus the procurator, I think, who on this account, has cast many Jews—­some of them innocent—­into prison.”

“Indeed!  Is that so?  Well, it was concerning this Florus that I came chiefly to ask your advice.  The Roman has kept a full half of my property,” and Caleb sighed and looked indignant.

“You are indeed fortunate that he has not kept it all.”

“I have been brought up in the desert far from cities,” pleaded Caleb.  “Is there no law by which I may have justice of this man?  Cannot you help me who are great among our people?”

“None,” answered Benoni.  “Roman citizens have rights, Jews what they can get.  You can appeal to Caesar if you wish, as the jackal appealed to the lion.  But if you are wise you will be content with half the carcase.  Also I am not great; I am but an old merchant without authority.”

Caleb looked downfallen.  “It seems that the days are hard for us Jews,” he said.  “Well, I will be content and strive to forgive my enemies.”

“Better be content and strive to smite your enemies,” answered Benoni.  “You who were poor are rich; for this much thank God.”

“Night and morning I do thank Him,” replied Caleb earnestly and with truth.

Then there was silence for a while.

“Is it your intention to reside in Hezron’s—­I mean in your house—­in Tyre?” asked Benoni, breaking it.