David looked at Kaid as though he would read in his face the reply that he must make, but he did not see Kaid; he saw, rather, the face of one he had loved more than Jonathan had been loved by the young shepherd-prince of Israel. In his ears he heard the voice that had called him in his sleep-the voice of Benn Claridge; and, at the same instant, there flashed into his mind a picture of himself fighting outside the tavern beyond Hamley and bidding farewell to the girl at the crossroads. "Friend, I cannot answer thee now," he said, in a troubled voice. Kaid rose. "I will give thee an hour to think upon it. Come with me." He stepped forward. "To-morrow I will answer thee, Kaid." "To-morrow there is work for thee to do. Come." David followed him. The eyes that followed the Prince and the Quaker were not friendly. What Kaid had long foreshadowed seemed at hand: the coming of a European counsellor and confidant. They realised that in the man who had just left the room with Kaid there were characteristics unlike those they had ever met before in Europeans. "A madman," whispered High Pasha to Achmet the Ropemaker. "Then his will be the fate of the swine of Gadarene," said Nahoum Pasha, who had heard. "At least one need not argue with a madman." The face of Achmet the Ropemaker was not more pleasant than his dark words. "It is not the madman with whom you have to deal, but his keeper," rejoined Nahoum. Nahoum's face was heavier than usual. Going to weight, he was still muscular and well groomed. His light brown beard and hair and blue eyes gave him a look almost Saxon, and bland power spoke in his face and in every gesture.