At every turn in the winding street Peter peered into the darkness, hoping to see the wavering light of torches ahead of him. He did not notice a dark figure standing against the wall of a house that closed in the narrow street until he ran into him. Startled but glad to see someone, Peter asked, "Sir, have you seen soldiers and men with clubs passing this way?" The question was out before he realized his danger. What if this stranger were an enemy? He could not even see his face. The man's answer was cautious. "Some men went by here a few minutes ago." The voice seemed familiar to Peter. "Did they have a prisoner?" he asked. "The torches were too dim for me to see." Peter forgot to thank the stranger in his haste to overtake Jesus. He rounded the next corner, running, then stopped short. Flickering straight ahead of him were torches. Soon he was close enough behind the men who carried them to see more clearly. The yellow flames threw weird patterns on the houses: shadows of men twisted and dodged on the walls as the torchbearers swung the lights to and fro. Peter followed cautiously, coming no closer than necessary. His heart leaped when he heard a step behind him. He jerked around and saw a young priest. Fear clutched at him. He was trapped! Before he could move, the man spoke. "There they are." Peter recognized the voice. It was the person he had run into a moment before! The priest looked at him curiously and exclaimed, "You were with the Galilean, weren't you?" A denial sprang to Peter's lips. Then he recognized the priest: it was the student who had come to the Hill of Olives that very morning! "What are they going to do?" Peter could keep back his anxiety no longer. The young priest shook his head gravely. "I fear the worst. Look! They have stopped!" He pointed. The torches shone on a heavy wooden gate. It swung open, and the group started to enter. "Let's follow them in," urged the priest. "Oh, no!" protested Peter. "They will recognize me. They wouldn't let me in anyway." But the priest was already hastening ahead. Peter followed. His friend entered with the last of the group, and the gates swung shut. A servant woman stood outside to question everyone who wanted to go into the house of the high priest. Torches fastened to the walls on each side of the gate threw a pool of yellow light on the street. Peter could hear many people inside; torchlight flickered on the high walls of the palace of the high priest, rising behind the gate. Driven by curiosity, Peter came closer and closer. The woman looked at him but said nothing. Peter hid his face; he was glad the torches were smoky and low. Suddenly the gate opened, and Peter saw his friend. "Let this man in," he ordered the servant woman. There was nothing for Peter to do but go in. As soon as he stepped into the light the woman said loudly: "Wait a minute! Aren't you one of this Galilean's followers?"