Next day, at the prayer of Miriam, Gallus also wrote a letter, which gave him much trouble, to a friend of his, who was a brother officer with the army at Jerusalem, enclosing one to be handed to Marcus if, perchance, he should have rejoined the Standards. “Now daughter,” he said, “we have done all that can be done, and must leave the rest to fate.” “Yes,” she answered with a sigh, “we must leave the rest to fate, as you Romans call God.” In the evening they set sail for Italy, and with them much of the captured treasure, many sick and wounded men and a guard of soldiers. As it chanced, having taken the sea after the autumn gales and before those of mid-winter began, they had a swift and prosperous voyage, enduring no hardships save once from want of water. Within thirty days they came to Rhegium, whence they marched overland to Rome, being received everywhere very gladly by people who were eager for tidings of the war. CHAPTER XX THE MERCHANT DEMETRIUS When on that fateful night in the Old Tower Miriam sprang forward to strike the lantern from the hand of the Jew, Nehushta, who was bending over the fallen Marcus and dragging at his body, did not even see that she had left the door. With an effort, the slope of the rocky passage beyond favouring her, she half-drew, half-lifted the Roman through the entrance. Then it was, as she straightened herself a little to take breath, that she heard the thud of the rock door closing behind her. Still, as it was dark, she did not guess that Miriam was parted from them, for she said: “Ah! into what troubles do not these men lead us poor women. Well, just in time, and I think that none of them saw us.” There was no answer. Sound could not pierce that wall and the place was silent as a tomb. “Lady! In the Name of Christ, where are you, lady?” asked Nehushta in a piercing whisper, and the echoes of the gallery answered—“Where are you, lady?” Just then Marcus awoke. “What has chanced? What place is this, Miriam?” he asked. “This has chanced,” answered Nehushta in the same awful voice. “We are in the passage leading to the vaults; Miriam is in the hands of the Jews in the Old Tower, and the door is shut between us. Accursed Roman! to save your life she has sacrificed herself. Without doubt she sprang from the door to dash the lantern from the hand of the Jew, and before she could return again it had swung home. Now they will crucify her because she rescued you—a Roman.” “Don’t talk, woman,” broke in Marcus savagely, “open the door. I am still a man, I can still fight, or,” he added with a groan, remembering that he had no sword, “at the least I can die for her.” “I cannot,” gasped Nehushta. “She had the iron that lifts the secret latch. If you had kept your sword, Roman, it might perhaps have served, but that has gone also.” “Break it down,” said Marcus. “Come, I will help.” “Yes, yes, Roman, you will help to break down three feet of solid stone.”