There was nothing strange in the fact that her mother, if so minded, should leave the upper story and descend to the court, yet Vashti could not help wondering why Miriam should have removed the knife from its customary place upon the shelf, since it was the one used only in the culinary operations, this room being the kitchen of the little household. But that existing circumstances forbade the hypothesis, the knife might have been taken as evidence almost of the preparation of a meal. As if expecting the darkness to furnish some clew Vashti looked vacantly around, and there upon the floor distant but a few feet, and scintillating through the gloom, was a something that had the semblance of an eye, an eye intently watching all her movements. It stared at her a while, blinked, glittered again, then the eyelid seemed to close, and there was darkness where the thing had been. Vashti gave a little insane laugh of relief, perceiving that what had frightened her was no eye at all, but a faint point of light upon the hearth, the last spark of some dying embers. It was clear that during her absence a fire had been kindled in this room, and by whom, if not by her mother? and this fact when taken with the knife would seem to point to the preparation of food. If so, by what means had Miriam become so fortunate? After what Vashti had seen that night it was scarcely credible that, Zealots excepted, there could be anyone in this famishing city so well provided as to be capable of giving relief to others. Such being the case, then, what was the meaning to be put upon the fire and the knife? Instead of hastening at once to her mother’s room Vashti lingered in this chamber, impressed somehow by the belief that here was to be found the key to the mystery. Though entirely ignorant as to its nature, she nevertheless felt certain that she was on the verge of some startling discovery, and she trembled all over. Slowly she drew near the hearth; over it the air still hung warm. Her feet pressed upon some light yielding material like cloth. Cloth it was, a little woollen garment belonging to Arad; nay more, certain fringes upon it told her that it was the little caftan he had been wearing when she last parted from him. What strange whim had induced her mother to deprive the child of his one and only garment? Had it been exchanged for another? If so, it was not easy to see the reason, or why the old one should have been brought down, and left lying by the hearth. Wondering whether there were anything else here belonging to Arad she put forth her hands, and grasped a little girdle and two sandals. A moment she stood in bewilderment: then, as the ghastly truth came rushing upon her mind, there broke from her a cry so awful as to seem scarcely human; the fear of the thing caused her hair to bristle, and the cold drops to start from every pore. All the appalling tragedies she had seen that night--what were they compared with this?