Jonathan's sentence was not completed. There was a sudden sound of the quick-timed, regular tramp of many feet in the street. Meton, hearing of the commotion in the house of Glaucon, had sent thither a detachment from the citadel. There were a few sharp words of command outside, followed by the crashing in of the gate. Then came a moment's silence. This was while the Greek rescuers were forming for a dash through the portal; for they knew that the foremost would fall beneath the unseen swords that were ready to meet them. Jonathan and his men were already in the breach. Man after man dropped in his tracks as the Greeks crossed the threshold. The assailants, though baffled, kept the gate open by thrusting back of the hinges a piece of timber which they had used as a sort of battering ram. The passage was soon choked with a pile of dead bodies. The Greeks then massed a number of spearmen who, with their bristling points thrust far ahead of them, essayed to rush their antagonists. This ruse was unfortunate; for no sooner were the spear-heads beyond the lintels than they were grasped by strong hands, and thrown upward, thus leaving the unprotected bodies of those who had used them at the mercy of the Jews' swords. The Greeks had surely lost the fight had not Meton ordered another party of his men to enter the adjacent houses, climb to the roofs, and from them reach that of the house of Glaucon. Having gained this advantage, they poured down in a torrent of destruction. The Greek servants were spared. Huldah and Ephraim in some mysterious manner disappeared. Glaucon, or what was left of the living man, since his fright had been well-nigh as fatal to him as a stone from a catapult would have been, was dragged from beneath a divan, but only to be shoved back again as into a place of security, while a soldier was set to prod him if he should attempt to come out. An officer finding Dion, laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Captain, I must put you under arrest. You will harbor me no ill will if I obey my orders?" "Do your duty, Mercedes, or I myself will report you," replied Dion. The Captain extended his hands, which were quickly bound with his own belt. The uneven fight was soon over in the court. A score of Jews were either slain or captured, though more than twice that number of their antagonists measured their lengths upon the pavement. One lay with his head in the fountain basin at the feet of Aphrodite, and stared with his dead eyes into the face of the marble beauty that gazed down into them. "Who is the leader of this gang of rebels?" asked Meton. "The Lord of Hosts is our leader!" said one of the captives. "The lord of the host?" queried Meton. "Has then the great Judas fallen into my trap? Shade of Apollonius! this is lucky for me. But where is your lord of the host?" He turned over the bodies of the dead Jews to look at their faces. "He is not here--nor here. None of these have stature enough for the giant."