m secretly, she decided, for surely as yet he
did not know; she would warn him, and before the sun was up he could be
beyond the Sanhedrim's reach, and she preparing to follow. For a moment
she lost herself in anticipation; then, the threat loosening its hold, she
stood up, her face very white in the starlight, her eyes brave and alert.
Already her plan was formed; and, taking a vase that she had brought with
her from Magdala, she hurried to the room below.

The Master; the disciples; Eleazer, her brother; Simon, her sister's
husband, were all at meat. Martha was serving, and as Mary entered Judas
stood up. She moved to where the Master was, and on him poured the
contents of the vase. Thomas sniffed delightedly, for now the room was
full of fragrance. The Master turned to her and smiled; the homage
evidently was grateful. Mary bent nearer. Thomas and Bartholomew joined in
loud praises of the aroma of the nard, and under cover of their voices she
whispered, "Rabboni, the Sanhedrim has placed a price on----"

The whisper was drowned and interrupted. Judas had shoved her away. "To
what end is this waste?" he asked; and as Mary looked in his face she saw
by the expression in it that her purpose had been divined and her warning
overheard.

"It is absurd," he continued, with affected anger. "Ointment such as that
has a value. It might better have been saved for the poor."

Thomas chimed in approvingly; placed in that light it was indeed an
extravagance, unnecessary too, and he looked about to his comrades for
support. Eleazer and Peter seemed inclined to view the matter differently.
A discussion would have arisen, but the Master checked it gently, as was
his wont.

"The poor are always with you, but me you cannot always have."

As he spoke he turned to Judas with that indulgence which was to be a
heritage.

Could he _know_? Judas wondered. Had he heard what Mary said? And, the
Master's speech continuing, he glanced at her and left the room.

The moon had mowed the stars, but the sky was visibly blue. Behind the
shoulder of Olivet he divined the silence of Jerusalem, the welcome of the
Sadducees, the joy of hate assuaged. There was but one thing now that
might deter; and as his thoughts groped through that possibility, Mary
stood at his side.

"Judas----"

He wheeled, and, catching her by the wrists, stared into her eyes.

"Is it yes?"

A shudder seized her. There was dread in it, anguish too, and both were
mort