detected, I cannot save you."

The Prince shrugged his shoulders.

"Good Democrates, I come of a race that trusts in the omnipotence of God
and does the right. Duty requires me in Athens. What Ahura-Mazda and
Mithra his glorious vicegerent will, that shall befall me, be I in Hellas
or in safe Ecbatana. The decree of the Most High, written among the stars,
is good. I do not shun it."

The words were spoken candidly, reverently. Democrates drew toward the
door, and the others did not strive to detain him.

"As you will," spoke the Athenian; "I have warned you. Trust then your
God. I have sold myself this once, but do not call me friend. Necessity is
a sharp goad. May our paths never cross again!"

"Until you again have need," said the Prince, not seeking to wring from
the other any promise.

Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The
light in Phormio's house was out. No one seemed to be watching. On the way
homeward Democrates comforted himself with the reflection that although
the memoranda he sold were genuine, Themistocles often changed his plans,
and he could see to it this scheme for arraying the war fleet was speedily
altered. No real harm then would come to Hellas. And in his hand was the
broken shekel,--the talisman to save him from destruction. Only when
Democrates thought of Glaucon and Hermione he was fain to grit his teeth,
while many times it returned to him, "They think it was _Glaucon_ who has
been twice now to visit the Babylonish carpet-seller."

* * * * * * *

As the door had closed behind the orator, the Prince had strode across the
rugs to the window--and spat forth furiously as in extreme disgust.

"Fool, knave, villain! I foul my lips by speaking to his accursed ears!"

The tongue in which he uttered this was the purest "Royal Persian," such
as one might hear in the king's court. The beautiful "mute," mute no
longer, glided across the chamber and laid both hands upon his shoulder
with a gracious caress.

"And yet you bear with these treacherous creatures, you speak them fair?"
was the remark in the same musical tongue.

"Yes, because there is sore need. Because, with all their faithlessness,
covetousness, and guile, these Hellenes are the keenest, subtlest race
beneath Mithra's glorious light. And we Persians must play with them,
master them, and use them to make us lords of all the world."

Hiram had disappeared behind a curta