"Call me the guard," he said hoarsely; but when Kenkenes made as if to obey, the king stayed him in a panic.
"Nay, heed me not. Mine assassin may be among them." The sound of his own voice frightened him. "Soft," he whispered, "I may be heard."
Kenkenes maintained silence, for he was not yet ready.
Meanwhile, the king turned hither and thither, essayed to speak and cautiously refrained, grew paler of face and wider of eye, panted, trembled and broke out recklessly at last.
"Gods! Trapped! Hemmed like a wild beast in a circle of spears! Nay, not so honestly beset. Ringed about by vipers ready to strike at every step! And this from mine own people, whom I have cherished and hovered over as they were my children—" His voice broke, but he continued his lament, growing unintelligible as he talked:
"Not enough that mine enemies menace me, but mine own must stab me in my straits! Not even is the identity of mine assassin revealed, and there is none on whom I may call with safety and ask protection—"
"Nay, nay, Beloved of Ptah," Kenkenes interrupted. "There be true men among thy courtiers."
"Not one—not one whom I may trust," Meneptah declared hysterically.
"Here am I, then."
Meneptah, with the inordinate suspicion of the hard-pressed, backed hurriedly away from Kenkenes.