“Master, your pardon,” said the Arab servant, bowing, “but the Roman captain, Marcus, desires speech with you.”
“Marcus? Oh, I remember the officer who was stationed here. I am not well, I cannot see him. Bid him come to-morrow.”
“Master, he bid me say that he sails for Rome to-night.”
“Well, well, admit him,” answered Benoni. “Perchance he comes to pay his debt,” he added.
The Arab departed, and presently the Roman was ushered in.
“Greetings, Benoni,” he said, with his pleasant smile. “Here am I, yet alive, for all your fears; so you see your money is still safe.”
“I am glad to hear it, my lord Marcus,” answered the Jew, bowing low. “But if it will please you to produce it, with the interest, I think,” he added drily, “it may be even safer in my strongbox.”
Marcus laughed pleasantly.
“Produce it?” he said. “What jest is this? Why, I come to borrow more to defray my costs to Rome.”
Benoni’s mouth shut like a trap.