“A proper serving-maid in truth, by Istar!” asserted Binit, surveying her work, while Gudea summoned from below, “Haste! The boat is departing.” Binit let the cold edge of the knife touch Ruth’s throat yet a second time. “Remember,” was her warning, “to the boatmen you are my maid. Chatter otherwise—” but she did not complete the promise; the dumb, scared expression on Ruth’s face was token that the threat had gone home. From the warehouse Tabni and Gudea accompanied them to the quay, where, amid a score of dark masts and hulks, they sought a low-lying, clumsy river barge. The exorcist aided the others aboard, while the six boatmen were loosing the tackling. “We have waited two ‘double hours,’” swore the master, “for your wife and her accursed wench. Another half shekel, or I thrust you all ashore!” “With gladness, good captain,” quoth Gudea, complying, and feeling very generous with so much of the king’s silver prospectively his own. “And you will not promise to give the king our treasure,” enjoined Binit, in a whisper, “for less than ten talents, not though he rage, and talk of calling for Khatin.” “By Nergal, surely not! I will begin by demanding twenty—” His words ended with a cry. There was a splash over the low gunwale into the sluggish water that crept around the quay, and a wide ripple spread out under the starlight. In a trice the three friends began to tear their hair and howl piteously. “Overboard!” groaned Tabni, rending his mantle. “Lost!” “No, madness,” exhorted the captain, coolly, “it was only your maid that missed her balance. She will drift beneath the quay and drown. But another as good is only ten shekels in the market!” “Ten talents!” shrieked Binit; and she would have leaped in after, but the boatman dragged her back fiercely. “Do not rave,” he commanded; “none of you can swim. She rises yonder a second time. Well, I will save her for five shekels.” “Yours! Yours! Only save!” came from the three in a breath; while Binit threw her mantle over her head, and screamed and moaned. The boatman flung off his garment, plunged overboard, and presently,—though it taxed all his art,—he was seen plashing alongside, upbearing the Jewess. She was unconscious when they laid her on the deck, and it was no easy matter to revive her. At the first gasps of returning life, Binit hastened her down into the little stern cabin, rejoicing all the while that, thanks to the excellence of the cosmetic, it had not yielded to the water, and the boatman could have discovered nothing. “She is safe?” demanded Gudea, anxiously, when his wife reappeared, leaving Tabni down below. “Safe, praised be Istar; but she must hate the king terribly to prefer suicide to his harem. How we must watch her! And remember the price,—ten talents, nothing less.” “Nothing less,” assented Gudea; then he gave the master his promised bounty, and leaped ashore.