been, that night, a great discussion of the new king, and
suddenly a man sitting by the side of Vergilius had risen. He began
speaking in a strange voice, which had, however, some quality familiar
to the young Roman. Shrill and trembling with emotion, it thrilled
many with a feeling of religious awe.

"The time is upon us," said he, "when the judges of the council have
come to the end of their deliberations. It is for me, therefore, to
reveal it to you in part. If there be any here who give not full
approval, let them freely express their minds."

He did not explain that such were, then and there, to be won by
argument or put out of the way by daggers.

"I speak of great things, but he that is to follow me shall speak of
greater. After weighing all the promises of Holy Writ, and enforcing
their wisdom by the counsel of other learned men," he continued, "your
judges declare the fulness of time."

The speaker paused. He heard a little stir of bodies, a rustle of
robes in the darkness.

The speaker went on:

"When Herod dies you shall see a rider go swiftly through the streets
bearing a red banner and crying, 'The king is dead.' Then shall the
commander of the cohorts go quickly and take possession of the royal
palace and await the new king."

Vergilius turned quickly in the direction of the fateful voice. He had
begun to suspect a plot. In a moment he saw to the very depths of its
cunning. Here was a band of conspirators meeting in the darkness and
speaking in disguised voices. Probably no member had ever seen the
face of another, and the betrayal of a name was, therefore, impossible.
Vergilius, now commander of the castle, heard with consternation of his
part in the programme. By some movement of the speaker's body an end
of his girdle was flung against the hand of Vergilius. Immediately the
young Roman laid hold of the silken cord. Tracing it stealthily, to
make sure of its owner, he drew his dagger and cut the girdle in twain,
hiding an end of it in his bosom.

"The new king is in Rome," the speaker added. "Presently you shall
hear the voice of his herald, whose face I know not, but of whose
fidelity and wisdom. I have long been sure. He will give you further
revelation of our purposes."

It was cunningly said, for the speaker knew that such a promise would
delay the vengeance of Herod.

A little silence followed the ceasing of "the shrill voice." Vergilius
could hear its owner moving aw