A whisper came from beyond the curtains that shielded one end of the divan: "It is I, King Hiram." "Why, Hanno! what means this? Are you mad? Is everybody mad?" The low tones of his friend's voice bespoke continued caution. Hanno laid his hand upon the king's arm as he said, "Let us first make sure that we are alone. If I could steal admission here, others might." He raised the shade from the flaming wick that floated in the oil. With drawn weapons the two men searched every nook where there was possibility of concealment. They were alone. "You are in danger, my king. I anticipated no harm to you in the open streets, for the priests are interested in protecting you there; but I feared lest some of the devils might give you foul play here: so I crept in, no matter how. You know the plot? No? It was further along than I suspected when we parted this afternoon. You, Hiram! Oh, the treachery of it! the cowardice of it! You, my king!" Hanno's voice was choked with uncontrollable rage. "You--you are to be the sacrifice to Baal!" Hiram stood gazing stupidly into his friend's face. He heard his words. He understood them, and yet he could not take them in. The power of thought seemed paralyzed. Then, gradually, he came to realize the meaning of what he had heard. At first he thought only of the indignity offered his throne. Then, brave as he was, there came a tremor of dread, as the horrid rites of the sacrifice filled his imagination. That cruelty which he had refused to sanction, where the victim was the humblest babe among his people, was to come upon himself! He saw himself a bound and helpless victim. He felt the flames, but they chilled him to the heart's core. For the first time in his life he was afraid. The two men sat down together upon the edge of the divan. For a long time neither spoke. Nor was it necessary. Rapidly the king put together in his memory many recent occurrences. His keen judgment saw their significance, and that they focused in the terrible fact which Hanno had announced. "Blind! blind! blind I have been; but I see it now," groaned the stricken man. Then, starting from his horrible reverie, he strode across the apartment. Pausing under the full glare of the lamp, he held aloft his dagger: "I swear before Baal that if he demands the sacrifice of the King of Tyre, the King of Tyre shall be both priest and victim! My own hand shall strike the blow; not theirs. And the altar shall be the dead body of Egbalus. He first shall fall. I shall seek him." He moved towards the door. His friend stayed him. "You cannot go out. The house is closely guarded," said Hanno. "Egbalus has filled the city with bands of Galli. They have been coming into Tyre from the country around for days." "I will cut my way through a thousand of them to the dock, and take to the sea," cried the king, in the valor of his despair.