Peroa gave the roll to the head messenger, bidding him bear it to the Satrap in answer to the letter which he had delivered to him. The man took it insolently and thrust it into his robe, as he did so revealing a silver chain that had been broken and knotted together, and asked whether there were words to bear besides those written in the roll. Before Peroa could answer Bes sprang up saying,
“O Prince, a boon, the boon of justice on this man. Last night he and others with him attacked my master and myself, seeking to rob us, but finding nothing let us go.”
“You lie, Abortion!” said the Eastern.
“Oh! I lie, do I?” mocked Bes. “Well, let us see,” and shooting out his long arm, he grasped the chain about the messenger’s neck and broke it with a jerk. “Look, O Prince,” he said, “you may have noted last night, when that man entered the hall, that there hung about his neck this chain to which was tied a silver key.”
“I noted it,” said Peroa.
“Then ask him, O Prince, where is the key now.”
“What is that to you, Dwarf?” broke in the man. “The key is my mark of office as chief butler to the High Satrap. Must I always bear it for your pleasure?”
“Not when it has been taken from you, Butler,” answered Bes. “See, here it is,” and from his sleeve he produced the key hanging to a piece of the chain. “Listen, O Prince,” he said. “I struggled with this man and the key was in my left hand though he did not know it at the time, and with it some of the chain. Compare them and judge. Also his mask slipped and I saw his face and knew him again.”
Peroa laid the pieces of the chain together and observed the workmanship which was Eastern and rare. Then he clapped his hands, at which sign armed men of his household entered from behind him.
“It is the same,” he said. “Butler of Idernes, you are a common thief.”