“What is it?” he cried.
“I know not,” answered the guard. “I heard a sound as of clanking armour and ran in, when some one struck the lantern from my hand, a strong rascal with whom I have struggled sorely, notwithstanding the blows that he rained upon me with his sword. See, I hold him fast.”
They held up their lights and saw a beautiful, dishevelled maid, small and frail of stature, whereon they laughed out loud.
“A strong thief, truly,” said one. “Why, it is a girl! Do you summon the watch every time a girl catches hold of you?”
Before the words died upon the speaker’s lips, another man called out, “The Roman! The Prefect has gone! Where is the prisoner?” and with a roar of wrath they began to search the place, as a cat searches for the mouse that escapes her. Only Caleb stood still and stared at the girl.
“Miriam!” he said.
“Yes, Caleb,” she answered quietly. “This is a strange meeting, is it not? Why do you break in thus upon my hiding-place?”
“Woman,” he shouted, mad with anger, “where have you hidden the Prefect Marcus?”
“Marcus?” she answered; “is he here? I did not know it. Well, I saw a man run from the tower, perhaps that was he. Be swift and you may catch him.”
“No man left the tower,” answered the other sentry. “Seize that woman, she has hidden the Roman in some secret place. Seize her and search.”