Of a sudden a great light seemed to shine in Caleb’s mind, it was as though a candle had been lit in a dark room.

“Ah!” he said.  “And supposing I can show him how to get this head, even how to get it without any scandal, do you think that in return he would leave me the lady’s hand?  You see I knew her in her youth and take a brotherly interest in her.”

“Quite so, just like Domitian and the two thousand sestertia man and, indeed, half the male population of Rome, who, when they saw her yesterday were moved by the same family feeling.  Well, I don’t see why he shouldn’t.  You see my master never cared for pearls that were not perfectly white, or admired ladies upon whom report cast the slightest breath of scandal.  But he is of a curiously jealous disposition, and it is, I think, the head that he requires, not the hand.”

“Had you not better make yourself clear upon the point before we go any further?” asked Caleb.  “Otherwise I do not feel inclined to undertake a very difficult and dangerous business.”

“With pleasure.  Now would you let me have your demands, in writing, perhaps.  Oh! of course, I understand—­to be answered in writing.”

Caleb took parchment and pen and wrote: 

“A free pardon, with full liberty to travel, live and trade throughout the Roman empire, signed by the proper authorities, to be granted to one Caleb, the son of Hilliel, for the part he took in the Jewish war.

“A written promise, signed by the person concerned, that if the head he desires is put within his reach the Jewish slave named Pearl-Maiden shall be handed over at once to Demetrius, the merchant of Alexandria, whose property she shall become absolutely and without question.”

“That’s all,” he said, giving the paper to Saturius.  “The Caleb spoken of is a Jewish friend of mine to whom I am anxious to do a good turn, without whose help and evidence I should be quite unable to perform my share of the bargain.  Being very shy and timid—­his nerves were much shattered during the siege of Jerusalem—­he will not stir without this authority, which, by the way, will require the signature of Titus Caesar, duly witnessed.  Well, that is merely an offering to friendship; of course my fee is the reversion to the lady, whom I desire to restore to her relations, who mourn her loss in Judaea.”

“Precisely—­quite so,” replied Saturius.  “Pray do not trouble to explain further.  I have always found those of Alexandria most excellent merchants.  Well, I hope to be back within two hours.”

“Mind you come alone.  As I have told you, everything depends upon this Caleb, and if he is in any way alarmed there is an end of the affair.  He only has a possible key to the mystery.  Should it be lost your patron will never get his head, and I shall never get my hand.”

“Oh! bid the timid Caleb have no fear.  Who would wish to harm a dirty Jewish deserter from his cause and people?  Let him come out of his sewer and look upon the sun.  The Caesars do not war with carrion rats.  Most worthy Demetrius, I go swiftly, as I hope to return again with all you need.”