CHAPTER VIII.


From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though
there was a startled movement among them.

"O my brother! my brother!" murmured Heraklas, the tears running
down his face in the dark, "I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!"

"Heraklas!" cried Timokles, "Heraklas! How camest thou hither?"

"Peace!" whispered Heraklas in terror. "Thou wilt be heard!"

Heraklas cast his arms about his brother and clung to him.

"How art thou bound, my Timokles?" asked Heraklas, when they had
embraced and wept together.

"My feet are bound with naught but cords, but a chain about my body
fasteneth me to a hook in the wall," answered Timokles. "Thou canst
not release me, my brother! Flee, while thou canst!"

"Nay, but I will try," whispered Heraklas resolutely.

He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that
bound his brother's ankles, cut the knots. Timokles sighed with
relief, as he moved his cramped feet. The feet of two of the other