Some of the rabbis shook
their heads.

"He is possessed of a devil," they said. "He will die and repent not."

But others nodded approvingly and wagged their filthy heads and said
that when the fool had been chastised the evil spirit would depart from
him.

Once more the cloud of passing time descended and was lifted. Then the
walls of the house were opened and in a low arched chamber the rabbis
sat about a black table. It was night and a single smoking lamp was
lighted, a mere wick projecting out of a three-cornered vessel of copper
which was full of oil and was hung from the vault with blackened wires.
Seven rabbis sat at the board, and at the head sat Lazarus. Their
crooked hands and claw-like nails moved uneasily and there was a lurid
fire in their vulture's eyes. They bent forward, speaking to each other
in low tones, and from beneath their greasy caps their anointed
side curls dangled and swung as they moved their heads. But Levi the
Short-handed was not among them. Their muffled talk was interrupted from
time to time by the sound of sharp, loud blows, as of a hammer striking
upon nails, and as though a carpenter were at work not far from the room
in which they sat.

"He has not repented," said Lazarus, from his place. "Neither
many stripes, nor cold, nor hunger, nor thirst, have moved him to
righteousness. It is written that he shall be cut off from his people."

"He shall be cut off," answered the rabbis with one voice.

"It is right and just that he should die," continued the father. "Shall
we give him over to the Christians that he may dwell among them and
become one of them, and be shown before the world to our shame?"

"We will not let him go," said the dark man, and an evil smile flickered
from one face to another as a firefly flutters from tree to tree in the
night--as though the spirit of evil had touched each one in turn.

"We will not let him go," said each again.

Lazarus also smiled as though in assent, and bowed his head a little
before he spoke.

"I am obedient to your judgment. It is yours to command and mine to
obey. If you say that he must die, let him die. He is my son. Take him.
Did not our father Abraham lay Isaac upon the altar and offer him as a
burnt sacrifice before the Lord?"

"Let him die," said the rabbis.

"Then let him die," answered Lazarus. "I am your servant. It is mine to
obey."

"His blood be on our heads," they said. And again, the evil smile went
round.

"It