Benoni watched his visitor depart, then once more began to wander up and down the portico.

“I do not trust that young man,” he thought, “of whose doings I have heard something; but he is rich and able, and may be of service to our cause.  This Miriam of whom he speaks, who can she be? unless, indeed, Rachel bore a daughter before she died.  Why not?  She would not have left it to my care who desired that it should be reared in her own accursed faith and looked upon me as the murderer of her husband and herself.  If so, I who thought myself childless, yet have issue upon the earth—­at least there is one in whom my blood runs.  Beautiful, gifted—­but a Christian!  The sin of the parents has descended on the child—­yes, the curse is on her also.  I must seek her out.  I must know the truth.  Man, what is it now?  Can you not see that I would be alone?”

“Master, your pardon,” said the Arab servant, bowing, “but the Roman captain, Marcus, desires speech with you.”

“Marcus?  Oh, I remember the officer who was stationed here.  I am not well, I cannot see him.  Bid him come to-morrow.”

“Master, he bid me say that he sails for Rome to-night.”

“Well, well, admit him,” answered Benoni.  “Perchance he comes to pay his debt,” he added.

The Arab departed, and presently the Roman was ushered in.

“Greetings, Benoni,” he said, with his pleasant smile.  “Here am I, yet alive, for all your fears; so you see your money is still safe.”

“I am glad to hear it, my lord Marcus,” answered the Jew, bowing low.  “But if it will please you to produce it, with the interest, I think,” he added drily, “it may be even safer in my strongbox.”

Marcus laughed pleasantly.

“Produce it?” he said.  “What jest is this?  Why, I come to borrow more to defray my costs to Rome.”

Benoni’s mouth shut like a trap.

“Nay,” said Marcus, holding up his hand, “don’t begin.  I know it all.  The times are full of trouble and danger.  Such little ready cash as you have at command is out at interest in safer countries—­Egypt, Rome, and Italy; your correspondent at Alexandria has failed to make you the expected remittance; and you have reason to believe that every ship in which you are concerned is now at the bottom of the ocean.  So would you be so good as to lend me half a talent of silver—­a thousand shekels in cash and the rest in bills of exchange on your agents at Brundisium?”

“No,” said Benoni, sternly.

“Yes,” replied Marcus, with conviction.  “Look you, friend Benoni, the security is excellent.  If I don’t get drowned, or have my throat slit between here and Italy, I am going to be one of the richest men in Rome; so this is your last chance of lending me a trifle.  You don’t believe it?  Then read this letter from Caius, my uncle, and this rescript signed by Nero the Caesar.”

Benoni perused the documents and returned them.