"And when Thou seest him, wake," concluded Mefres.
He threw over the Greek an officer's mantle with a cowl, whispered the password into his ear and led him forth to the empty streets of Memphis through a secret door of the temple.
Then Mefres ran with the celerity of youth to the summit of the pylon, and taking in his hand some banners, made signals toward the palace. They saw and understood him, that was evident, for a bitter smile came to the parchment like face of the high priest.
Mefres put down the banners, left the summit of the pylon and descended slowly. When he reached the pavement he was surrounded by some men in light brown tunics, which were covered by coats in white and black stripes.
"Here is the most worthy Mefres," said one of them. And all three knelt before the high priest, who raised his hand mechanically, as if to bless them. But he dropped it suddenly, inquiring, "Who are ye?"
"Overseers of the labyrinth."
"Why have ye barred the way to me?" asked he, and his hand and thin lips began to tremble.
"We need not remind thee, holy man," said one of the overseers still kneeling, "that some days ago Thou wert in the labyrinth, to which Thou knowest the way as well as we, though Thou art uninitiated. Thou art too great a sage not to know what our law is in such a case."
"What does this mean?" exclaimed Mefres in a raised voice. "Ye are murderers sent by Her."
He did not finish. One of the men seized him by the arms, another passed a kerchief over his head, and a third threw a transparent liquid over his face. Mefres struggled a number of times, and fell. They sprinkled him again. When he was dead they placed him in a niche, pushed into his dead hand a papyrus, and vanished.