Then from the throng at the back of the hall came forward Merapi, clad
in a white robe and with a black veil thrown about her head in token
of mourning, but not so as to hide her face. Up the hall she glided and
made obeisance to Pharaoh, as she did so, casting one swift look at Seti
where he sat. Then she stood still, looking, as I thought, wonderfully
beautiful in that simple robe of white and the evil of black.

"Speak, woman," said Pharaoh.

She obeyed, telling all the tale in her low and honeyed voice, nor did
any seem to think it long or wearisome. At length she ended, and Pharaoh
said:

"Say, Seti my son, is this truth?"

"It is truth, O my Father. By virtue of my powers as Governor of this
city I caused the captain Khuaka to be put to death for the crime of
murder done by him before my eyes in the streets of the city."

"Perchance you did right and perchance you did wrong, Son Seti. At least
you are the best judge, and because he struck your royal person, this
Khuaka deserved to die."

Again he was silent for a while staring through the open doors at the
sky beyond. Then he said:

"What would ye more, Prophets of Jahveh? Justice has been done upon my
officer who slew the man of your people. A life has been taken for a
life according to the strict letter of the law. The matter is finished.
Unless you have aught to say, get you gone."