In an instant, Clearchus had been overcome. Chares, who had remained in the angle of shadow, sprang forward with a cry of rage. He reached Phradates before the soldiers could stop him, and dealt the Tyrian a blow that sent him down in an inanimate heap ten yards away; but, as he did so, a dozen men leaped upon him and bore him to the earth.
Clearchus was struggling like a madman with his captors, but to no purpose.
"They have us," the Theban said coolly. "Let us show ourselves men."
With a groan Clearchus submitted; and the guard, having bound their arms behind them, dragged them to their feet.
"At least, that Phœnician coward has his deserts," Chares exclaimed with a laugh, glancing at the senseless form of his enemy. "I hope I have killed him!"
Part of the guard marched them quickly away, while the rest remained behind to care for Phradates. As long as the house could be seen, Clearchus kept his eyes upon the window, hoping for another glimpse of Artemisia, but he saw her not.
It was necessary for the soldiers who had stayed behind with Phradates to summon a physician before he could be brought back to consciousness. His life had been saved by the fact that he threw up his right hand to protect himself from Chares' terrible blow. The bones of his wrist had been broken and splintered so badly that the physician doubted whether he would ever be able to use his hand again.
In the morning Iphicrates received orders to join the citizen levy that had been raised to defend the walls of the city; and Phradates, with a retinue of slaves and attendants, took possession of the house. The money-lender protested bitterly against the service demanded of him, but his entreaties were in vain. He had not even time to make provision for the security of his valuables before he was hurried away, and he was forced to accept the assistance which the sympathetic Mena pressed upon him. He revealed to the Egyptian, with many lamentations, the hiding-places of his hoard, promising to reward him liberally if he would bring it to him. Mena found not only the gold of which Iphicrates had spoken, but much more that had been so cunningly concealed in the walls of the house that Iphicrates had deemed it unnecessary to allude to it. So expeditious was Mena's search that he was able to report to Iphicrates, before nightfall, that the soldiers had anticipated him and had carried everything away.
"I am ruined!" cried the wretched man, turning pale and wiping the drops from his brow. "The savings of a lifetime of toil have been taken from me! Ah, the robbers! Would that I had them here before me!"
"Take hope," Mena replied soothingly. "The fortunes of war may bring thee more than thou hast lost, and it is better, at any rate, that thy gold should have fallen into the hands of thy friends rather than into those of the Macedonians."