“When you come you will hear. And don't let anything keep you away—not anything, mind—if you take my hint”.
She left him with her head hung, praying for deliverance, but consenting.
The next (Wednesday) morning Frankl was in a high room of the Hall, in a corner of which cowered the Arab, Isaac, and he said in his strong bass in Arabic: “Well, Isaac, well”.
A groan broke from the obese heap of grief; down each side of his kefie streamed waves of trembling; on his square-cut beard of ritual flecks of foam.
“Isaac, why did you kill Mephibosheth?”
Vigorously sputtered Isaac, spitting out the ill-omened words. He said: “Your servant did not kill Mephibosheth”.
“Well, there was an inquest to-day, the Court decided that you did, and has sentenced you to be hanged by the neck like a dog”.
The Arab sprang up, his thick bluish under-lip shivering.
“An eye for an eye”, said Frankl solemnly: “it is written in the Torah”.
“Mercy My father served your father—”