"Bring a torch," cried the voice of the other priest, and soon the two heads were again hanging over the balustrade and a torch in the hand of Lampon threw light on the upturned faces of the Twins. "Who are you?" said the priest of the Erechtheum, "and what are you doing here at this hour, you miserable little spies?" "Oh, please, we aren't spies at all," cried Dion. He didn't know what a spy was, but he thought it safe to say he wasn't one. "We are lost." "Come up here at once." It was Lampon who spoke. The children, half dead with terror, went round to the other side of the porch, climbed the steps to the entrance, and stood trembling before the priests. Lampon lifted his torch and looked at them carefully. "Didn't I see you this morning at the house of Pericles?" he asked sternly. The Twins nodded. "Who sent you here?" he asked. "Nobody sent us. We're lost," cried poor Daphne. "Humph!" said the other priest. "That's a likely story." "Did you hear what we were talking about?" asked Lampon. He took Dion by the shoulder, and as he did not answer at once, shook him. "Come, yes or no," he said. "Ye-e-es," stammered Dion. The two priests looked at each other, and Lampon said: "They are the children of the farmer who brought the lamb to Pericles. They live on his farm." "It will be a long time before they see the farm again," answered the other shortly. "They say they are lost. Very well, we will see to it that those words are made true. What do you say to shipping them to Africa? They would make a pretty pair of slaves, and a ship sails for Alexandria to-morrow. It can easily be arranged. I know the captain." "A good idea!" said Lampon. "Since these children are in a sense wards of Pericles, they are for that reason the more likely to be enemies of the Gods. It would be an act of piety to send them where they could do no harm by betraying the secrets of the temple." The children were speechless with fright. Their two captors pushed them roughly before them into the temple and drove them through the great gloomy interior, lighted only by a few torches, to a small closet-like room somewhere in the rear. As they walked, huge black shadows cast by the torch of Lampon danced grotesquely before them. At the closet the two priests stopped to unlock the door. "Here is a safe harbor for you for the night," said Lampon, as he pushed the children into the closet. "To-morrow we may find a yet safer place for you," and with these words he locked them in. The children were so exhausted by hunger and fright that, even though they were Spartans, they sat down on the cold stone floor and wept in each other's arms. "Oh, Mother, Mother," sobbed Daphne, "why did we ever leave you?" "Don't you remember," said Dion, struggling with his tears, "that the signs were favorable? It must be all right somehow, for the word Mother heard was 'Go.'" "If I only hadn't sneezed!" sobbed Daphne. "But a sneeze is always a good sign," said Dion.