“I have no doubt they have,” returned Dick. “Yet they may consider this quite good enough for us. But I am not going to worry very greatly just yet, and I would recommend you not to do so either. It is true that so far these folk have displayed a most lamentable and disconcerting lack of appreciation of our many excellent qualities, but you must remember that we have not had much opportunity for a display of those qualities as yet. The opportunity will come no doubt, and when it does we will just make our friends outside sit up—I don’t quite know how, but we will do it somehow. So cheer up, old chap; the fact that they have put us in here instead of killing us at sight, so to speak, seems to suggest to my mind the belief that, if they are displeased at our presence in their country, they at least intend to give us some sort of a trial before passing us on to the executioner.”
“Oh, dash it all, old man, don’t talk about executioners—!” began Grosvenor, when he was interrupted by the opening of the cell door and a man entered, bearing in one hand a pitcher of water, and in the other a loaf of bread of liberal proportions on a wooden platter. These he placed on the floor beside the prisoners, and was gone again before Grosvenor could sufficiently pull his wits together to address him.
The food and drink were most acceptable, for the prisoners had taken no refreshment since breakfast that morning, and the day was now drawing to its close, as they could tell by the rapidly diminishing light that percolated through their narrow window. They fell to upon the viands forthwith, availing themselves of the last departing daylight to find the food; and finally, after a little further desultory chat, in which each did his best to make light of the situation, they disposed themselves as comfortably as they could upon the floor, and sought such rest as might be possible under the circumstances.
The night that followed was certainly not a pleasant one, for the floor was hard, and sleep was shy of coming to them. With the first glimmerings of daylight, therefore, the two prisoners arose, weary, sore of body, and in a distinctly pessimistic frame of mind which found no amelioration in the fact that hour after hour dragged its weary length along, bringing neither visitors nor food, although the breakfast hour had long passed. Noon arrived, and still no footstep approached the door of their cell; and when at length their watches marked the hour of three in the afternoon without the arrival of food, without even so much as a visit from their jailer to ascertain whether or not all was well with them, they began to ask themselves seriously whether by any chance they had been forgotten.
The answer came about half an hour later when the door of their cell was suddenly thrown open by the man who had locked them in on the previous night, and who now gruffly summoned them to follow him.
They emerged from their place of confinement gladly enough—for they had reached that stage of discomfort when one welcomes any change, even though there should be a possibility that it may prove to be for the worse—and were at once taken into custody by a handsomely attired officer in command of ten soldiers who, armed with short, broad-bladed spears, and each carrying a flaring torch, at once closed round them. The word to march was given, and the party moved away along the labyrinth of passages, turning hither and thither in the most bewildering fashion, until at length they reached a narrow flight of stone steps that wound upward, corkscrew fashion, until they emerged into another passage which, after a journey of some fifty yards, conducted them into a spacious and lofty hall lighted at either end by a large window glazed with what, from the cursory glance which they obtained of it, they judged to be talc, or some similar substance. A number of passages led out of this hall, and down one of them the party plunged, finally passing through a doorway into a spacious chamber, lighted, like the hall, by large windows glazed with the talc-like material already mentioned. There was a peculiarity about this chamber that at once attracted the attention of the two young Englishmen, and it was this: the wall opposite the door by which they had entered was divided horizontally into two unequal parts, the lower and smaller of the two being occupied by a grille of exquisitely fine carved work executed in a kind of Greek pattern, while the upper compartment was filled in with a window reaching right across from side to side of the chamber, that threw a strong light right down upon the precise spot where they were halted. As the two prisoners came to a standstill at the word of command of the officer in charge of the party, the soldiers formed themselves into a semicircle between their charges and the door, and grounded their spears with a clank upon the black marble pavement, while, although the room was apparently empty, save for themselves, the officer advanced and, raising his spear in salute, exclaimed in a loud voice, in the quasihebrew tongue which appeared to be the common language of the people:
“Lords! the prisoners from afar are present.”
“It is well,” replied a deep, solemn voice from behind the grille, and the two friends suddenly realised that they were about to be put upon their trial for the offence of intruding where they were not wanted. They both directed their gaze upon the grille with greatly enhanced interest, striving to obtain a glimpse of the person or persons behind it; but a space of at least twenty feet divided them from it, and at that distance the interstices were too small to afford the faintest glimpse of anyone on the other side. There was a pause of perhaps half a minute, then the voice that had last spoken said:
“Let Benoni, the officer who arrested the strangers upon their arrival in Izreel, be summoned to give his evidence.”
The officer in charge of the prisoners stepped to the door, opened it, spoke a few words to someone on the other side, apparently giving an order, then closed the door again and returned to his former position in the hall.