The wizard hung down his head. The priest, with a single blow, crushed a fly that lit on his palm and snapped:—
“Understand, you are clay in my fingers. At my will I dash you out as this fly. Silence now, or your wagging tongue wags your head off also.”
“Ah, lord,” answered Gudea, “Bel forbid I should whisper one secret—”
Avil sprang to his feet and paced the room.
“Hark, you knave! I see through you as through Phœnician glass. You will mortgage your soul for ten shekels,—say five rather. If I take oath from you, it will bind while your interest holds, no longer.”
“Alas, your Excellency, enemies blast my character.”
Neriglissor raised a great laugh, crying:—
“An exorcist of honesty! Hear, Heavens! Behold, Earth! Wonder of wonders!”
But Avil-Marduk ceased pacing.
“My dear wizard,” said he, in his oiliest manner, “I am infinitely delighted to have a man of your liver seek me to-night.” His voice fell to a confidential pitch. “Great things are afoot. If certain events befall,”—he hesitated,—“Daniel will become a most undesirable man to remain in high office.”