“See,” cried one of them, “here are pearls, fit wear for so fine a lady. Shall we take them?”
“Fool, let the trinkets be,” answered Simeon angrily. “Are we common thieves?”
“Here is something else,” said the officer, drawing the roll of Marcus’s cherished letter from her breast.
“Not that, not that,” the poor girl gasped.
“Give it here,” said Simeon, stretching out his lean hand.
Then he undid the silk case and, opening the letter, read its first lines aloud. “‘To the lady Miriam, from Marcus the Roman, by the hand of the Captain Gallus.’ What do you say to that, Benoni and brethren? Why, there are pages of it, but here is the end: ‘Farewell, your ever faithful friend and lover, Marcus.’ So, let those read it who have the time; for my part I am satisfied. This woman is a traitress; I give my vote for death.”
“It was written from Rome two years ago,” pleaded Miriam; but no one seemed to heed her, for all were talking at once.
“I demand that the whole letter be read,” shouted Benoni.
“We have no time, we have no time,” answered Simeon. “Other prisoners await their trial, the Romans are battering our gates. Can we waste more precious minutes over this Nazarene spy? Away with her.”
“Away with her,” said Simon the son of Gioras, and the others nodded their heads in assent.