'There is no blood in this synagogue, Excellency,' said the Rabbi, his eyes a-twinkle, 'save what runs in living veins.' 'We shall see. Produce that bottle beneath the Ark.' 'That!' The _Shamash_ grinned--almost indecorously. 'That is the Consecration wine--red as my beard,' quoth he. 'Ha! ha! the red Consecration wine!' repeated the synagogue in a happy buzz, and from the women's gallery came the same glad murmur of mutual explanation. 'We shall see,' repeated the officer, with iron imperturbability, and the happy hum died into a cold heart-faintness, fraught with an almost incredulous apprehension of some devilish treachery, some mock discovery that would give the Ghetto over to the frenzies of fanatical creditors, nay, to the vengeance of the law. The officer's voice rose again. 'Let no one leave the synagogue--man, woman, or child. Kill anyone who attempts to escape.' The screams of fainting women answered him from above, but impassively he urged his horse along the aisle that led to the Ark; its noisy hoofs trampled over every heart. Springing from his saddle he opened the little cupboard beneath the scrolls, and drew out a bottle, hideously red. 'Consecration wine, eh?' he said grimly. 'What else, Excellency?' stoutly replied the _Shamash_, who had followed him. A savage laugh broke from the officer's lips. 'Drink me a mouthful!' As the _Shamash_ took the bottle, with a fearless shrug of the shoulders, every eye strained painfully towards him, save in the women's gallery, where many covered their faces with their hands. Every breath was held. Keeping the same amused incredulous face, Red Judah gulped down a draught. But as the liquid met his palate a horrible distortion overcame his smile, his hands flew heavenwards. Dropping the bottle, and with a hoarse cry, 'Mercy, O God!' he fell before the Ark, foaming at the mouth. The red fluid spread in a vivid pool. 'Hear, O Israel!' A raucous cry of horror rose from all around, and was echoed more shrilly from above. Almighty Father! The Jew-haters had worked their fiendish trick. Now the men were become as the women, shrieking, wringing their hands, crying, '_Ai, vai!_' '_Gewalt!_' The Rabbi shook as with palsy. 'Satan! Satan!' chattered through his teeth. But Ben Amram had moved at last, and was stooping over the scarlet stain. 'A soldier should know blood, Excellency!' the physician said quietly. The officer's face relaxed into a faint smile. 'A soldier knows wine too,' he said, sniffing. And, indeed, the spicy reek of the Consecration wine was bewildering the nearer bystanders. 'Your Excellency frightened poor Judah into a fit,' said the physician, raising the beadle's head by its long red beard.