"
"But for God, you mean, mistress, for I hold that He sent that
knife-point home."
"Did you kill the man?" asked Rachel.
"I think that he died by a dagger-thrust as Anna foretold," she answered
evasively; "and that reminds me that I had better clean the knife, since
blood on the blade is evidence against its owner." Then drawing the
dagger from its hiding-place she rubbed it with dust, which she took
from a loop-hole, and polished it bright with a piece of hide.
Scarcely was this task accomplished to Nehushta's satisfaction when her
quick ears caught a sound.
"For your life, be silent," she whispered, and laid her face sideways
to a crack in the cement floor and listened. Well might she listen, for
below were three soldiers searching for her and her mistress.
"The old fellow swore that he saw a Libyan woman carrying a lady down
this street," said one of them, the petty officer in charge, to his
companion, "and there was but a single brown-skin in the lot; so if they
aren't here I don't know where they can be."
"Well," grumbled one of the soldiers, "this place is as empty as a drum,
so we may as well be going. There'll be fun presently which I don't want
to miss."
"It was the black woman who knifed our friend Rufus, wasn't it--in the
theatre there?" asked the third soldier.
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