There was a dreadful disturbance in the hall. Women were terrified; men called out,
"What is it? An attack on the heir! Hei, guards!"
The sound of broken dishes was heard, and the rattle of chairs.
"Where is the heir?" bellowed the stranger.
"Guards! Defend the life of the heir!" shouted men in the courtyard.
"Light the torches!" called the youthful voice of the heir. "Who is looking for me? Here I am!"
Torches were brought. In the hall were piles of overturned and broken furniture behind which guests were in hiding. On the platform the prince tore away from the women, who screamed while they held to his legs and arms firmly. Near the prince was Tutmosis, his wig torn, a bronze pitcher in his hand with which he was ready to open the head of any one who dared to go nearer the viceroy. At the door of the hall appeared warriors with swords drawn for action.
"What is this? Who is here?" cried the terrified nomarch.
At last they beheld the author of the disturbance, a gigantic man, naked, and mud-covered. He had bloody stripes on his shoulders; he was kneeling on the steps of the platform and stretching his hands toward Ramses.
"This is the murderer," shouted the nomarch. "Seize him!"