“And with you is my Lord Daniel?”
“Safe and free, Jehovah willing,” answered the older Jew, stepping forward.
“Good, then,” replied the Persian. “Lead the way, for I am helpless here. Next to Ahura, I owe all to you, Isaiah, and to your friends!”
“Fear nothing.” And Isaiah trod forward into the dark. “Few know the secrets of this city and palace as do I. We must haste to the tunnel.”
They advanced in silence. The prison seemed empty of all life. Their feet awoke loud echoes down shadow-veiled galleries, but nothing hostile started forth to greet them. Presently they began ascending stairways, and the foul stench of the dungeons grew yet fainter.
Then a door swung open before them, and a cold breath smote their faces. A strange form thrust itself across their path.
“Who comes? Shaphat?” demanded Isaiah, never off his guard.
The newcomer stared about him in the dark.
“I am he; the guards are quieted. There is no danger. But where is my Lord Daniel? Let me fall at his feet.”
And recognizing the older Jew, he cast himself then and there upon his knees.