"Thou wishest to say, grace," answered Dagon, "that seven thousand belong to the temples, and seven thousand to great lords. Still six thousand belong clearly to his holiness." "Not altogether! For when thou takest, worthiness, about three thousand which are mortgaged to the priests, and two thousand which are rented to our Phœnicians--" "Thou speakest the truth, grace," said Dagon. "But there remain always to his holiness about two thousand very rich cities." "Has Typhon possessed thee?" roared Rabsun, in his turn. "Wilt thou go now to counting the cities of the pharaoh,--may he--" "Pst!" whispered Dagon, springing up. "When misfortune is hanging over Phœnicia--" finished Rabsun. "Let me but know what the misfortune is," interrupted Dagon. "Then let Hiram speak and thou wilt know." "Let him speak." "Dost thou know, worthiness, what happened in the inn 'Under the Ship' to our brother Asarhadon?" began Hiram. "I have no brothers among innkeepers," interrupted Dagon, sneeringly. "Be silent!" screamed Rabsun, in anger; and he grasped the hilt of his dagger. "Thou art as dull as a dog barking in sleep." "Why is he angry, that--that dealer in bones?" inquired Dagon; and he readied for his knife also. "Quiet! Concord!" said the gray-headed prince; and he dropped his lean hand to his girdle. For a while the nostrils of all three men were quivering and their eyes flashing. At last Hiram, who calmed himself first, began again, as if nothing had happened. "A couple of months ago, in Asarhadon's inn, lodged a certain Phut from the city of Harran----" "He had to receive five talents from some priest," interrupted Dagon. "What further?" asked Hiram. "Nothing. He found favor with a certain priestess, and at her advice went to seek his debtor in Thebes." "Thou hast the mind of a child and the talkativeness of a woman," said Hiram. "This Harran man is not from Harran at all. He is a Chaldean, and his name is not Phut, but Beroes--" "Beroes?--Beroes?" repeated Dagon, trying to remember. "I have heard that name in some place." "Thou hast heard it!" repeated Hiram, with contempt. "Beroes is the wisest priest in Babylon, the counsellor of Assyrian princes and of the king himself." "Let him be counsellor; if he is not the pharaoh, what do I care?" said the banker. Rabsun rose from his chair, and threatening Dagon with his fist under the nose, cried,-- "Thou wild boar, fatted on the pharaoh's swill, Phœnicia concerns thee as much as Egypt concerns me. Thou wouldst sell thy country for a drachma hadst thou the chance, leprous cur that thou art!" Dagon grew pale and answered with a calm voice,-- "What is that huckster saying? In Tyre my sons are learning navigation; in Sidon lives my daughter with her husband. I have lent half my property to the supreme council, though I do not receive even ten per cent for it. And this huckster says that Phœnicia does not concern me!"