beside all this, that had helped to win Cambyses’ favor for the Athenian.  This man’s coming seemed as if it might possibly give him back the treasure he had believed was lost and more than lost.  But how could the life of such a foreign adventurer be accepted as surety for the sons of the highest Persians in the realm?  The proposal, however, did not make him angry.  On the contrary, he could not help smiling at the boldness of this Greek, who in his eagerness had freed himself from the cloth which hung over his mouth and beard, and exclaimed:  “By Mithras, Greek, it really seems as if you were to prove a messenger of good for us!  I accept your offer.  If the prisoners, notwithstanding your supposition, should still prove guilty you are bound to pass your whole life at my court and in my service, but if, on the contrary, you are able to prove what I so ardently long for, I will make you richer than any of your countrymen.”

Phanes answered by a smile which seemed to decline this munificent offer, and asked:  “Is it permitted me to put a few questions to yourself and to the officers of your court?”

“You are allowed to say and ask whatever you wish.”

At this moment the master of the huntsmen, one of those who daily ate at the king’s table, entered, out of breath from his endeavors to hasten the preparations, and announced that all was ready.

“They must wait,” was the king’s imperious answer.  “I am not sure, that we shall hunt at all to-day.  Where is Bischen, the captain of police?”

Datis, the so-called “eye of the king,” who held the office filled in modern days by a minister of police, hurried from the room, returning in a few minutes with the desired officer.  These moments Phanes made use of for putting various questions on important points to the nobles who were present.

“What news can you bring of the prisoners?” asked the king, as the man lay prostrate before him.  “Victory to the king!  They await death with calmness, for it is sweet to die by thy will.”

“Have you heard anything of their conversation?”

“Yes, my Ruler.”

“Do they acknowledge their guilt, when speaking to each other?”

“Mithras alone knows the heart; but you, my prince, if you could hear them speak, would believe in their innocence, even as I the humblest of your servants.”

The captain looked up timidly at the king, fearing lest these words should have excited his anger; Cambyses, however, smiled kindly instead of rebuking him.  But a sudden thought darkened his brow again directly, and in a low voice he asked:  “When was Croesus executed?”

The man trembled at this question; the perspiration stood on his forehead, and he could scarcely stammer the words:  “He is . . . he has . . . we thought. . . .”

“What did you think?” interrupted Cambyses, and a new light of hope seemed to dawn in his mind.  “Is it possible, that you did not carry out my orders at once?  Can Croesus still be alive?  Speak at once, I must know the whole truth.”