“‘The leader among the soldiers.’
“‘What sort of a man is he?’
“‘A great, bull necked, big fisted man; with fierce and cruel and blood shot eyes, and cheeks somewhat bruised and swollen. I have heard him called Draco. This man carries the key of the dungeon at his girdle day and night. He treats us like dogs, and would kill us outright in his terrible passion should he find us out. No, we cannot afford to take such a risk for a single day longer. We were worrying over the matter when you came up.’
“‘Look here, woman!’ said I fiercely, ‘if you let this Hebrew (for he is of our faith) perish, you will have to account for it to both man and God; but, if you will give him ample food and drink daily and help us to free him, the lady Rachel promises to reward you richly—beyond what you could dream. If there is risk in the matter there is enough pay in it, too, to make it well worth your while to take the risk. But I do not see that you need to run any considerable risk. Where are these men in the night?’
“‘They always pass the best part of the night in a drunken carouse. They have found the wine cellar.’
“‘And, I dare say, by midnight they are lying about the floor of the mess room dead drunk and stupid as logs.’
“‘It may be.’
“‘And what is to hinder you from taking that time for putting food, and whatever else his friends may wish (this note for example), within reach of the prisoner? The risk must be very small. Indeed I am not sure but that you might safely steal in among the besotted and snoring brutes, cut off the key from Draco’s belt, and open the door of the dungeon. The lady Rachel would enrich you for life.’
“The woman threw up her hands in dismay. ‘I could not do it. The very idea of such a thing almost frightens me to death. Besides, how do I know that the daughter of Alexander will fulfill all your fine promises. You always did talk larger than the truth. You never spare fine talking in the way of business.’
“I confess this awfully embarrassed me. My habit in dealing with my customers has been somewhat of the ornamental and poetical sort. And now at last it had brought me into difficulty. What should I do? I silently promised myself that I would mend my ways. I protested to the woman by all things sacred that I did not misrepresent you. The miserable woman declared she would not believe me. Nothing short of your own lips should satisfy her. If you would come and with your own mouth repeat my promises they would try to do what they could. But she shook like one in a palsy when she said it.