A long, weird wail from the Arab dying on
a cross in the garden flooded down the flues.
"A hundred deaths a day," said Ben Joreb.
"I have been talking with Manius," Antipater answered. "He thinks it
would be a mercy to--"
He was interrupted again. That tremulous, awful cry for mercy found
its way to his ear. It seemed to mock the sacred word. Antipater
jumped to his feet, cursing.
"I will put an end to that," said he, rushing to the door and flinging
it back and running down the passage.
Manius turned to Ben Joreb.
"What is there in the howling of that slave?" he whispered. "I am
weak-hearted."
"I take it for a sign," the other answered, gravely. "It is written,
'Thy spirit shall be as the candle of the Lord,' and, again, 'Thou
shall hearken to the cry of anguish.'"
In a few moments Antipater returned.
"I have summoned the carnifex," said he, bolting the door and resuming
his place at the table. "I was saying to you, good Manius, that my
friend here, Ben Joreb, would think it a great mercy to remove him.
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