"Are these the Greeks for whom I sent thee?" the king asked indifferently.

"They are, my lord," Boupares replied.

"Let them come near," Darius said.

Some of the prisoners prostrated themselves before the king as they had seen Boupares do. Others remained standing, and among these were Clearchus and Chares. Darius looked at them, and a slight frown appeared upon his brow.

"Who are they?" he asked, turning to Boupares.

The governor designated each of the captives by name, adding a few particulars by way of identification.

"Clearchus, an Athenian, and Chares, a Theban," he said. "They have served in the army of the Macedonian, and they were sent to the king from Halicarnassus by Memnon."

"Why have they been permitted to live?" Darius demanded, his face darkening at the name of the lost city.

"Because Memnon believed they could give the king information,"

Boupares answered humbly, "and when captured they had left the army of Alexander."

"What manner of man is this Alexander?" Darius asked, turning his face to the Greeks.

"He is a king," Chares answered quietly.

"How can he hope to meet me, with his handful of men?" Darius asked again.

"He remembers Cyrus, thy ancestor," Chares replied boldly.

These answers made an evident impression on Darius, whose face lost its listless expression. Many questions he put to the Greeks, who made no attempt to conceal anything from him, knowing that others could give him the information that he desired if they refused, and that refusal would mean immediate death. Finally the king could think of nothing more to ask.

"I am about to march against thy Alexander," he said. "Who will win the victory?"

"Victory is the gift of the Gods, O king," Clearchus said quickly.

"Dost thou wish flattery, or a frank reply, without concealment?"

"Speak freely," Darius said, raising his head in pride.

"Then, unless thou canst make thy army equal to his in discipline and spirit, thy numbers will not avail," the Athenian said.

Darius' face flushed, and a murmur of protest rose from the watchful courtiers.

"Is that thy opinion, too?" the king asked, turning to Chares.

"The ocean himself must break upon the rock," the Theban said.

"And thine?" the king continued, addressing Charidemus, the Corinthian.

"It is, O king," Charidemus replied.

Phradates had been watching the face of Darius. He had recognized his enemies as soon as they entered the audience chamber and had resolved to deal them a blow if the chance presented itself. When he saw the frown on the brow of the king and caught the gleam of anger in his eye, he believed he might safely act. He stepped forward and again prostrated himself at the steps of the throne.

"Speak!" said Darius, looking down upon him.

"My lord, I know these men for spies," he said. "I was in Halicarnassus when they were captured just before I received the wound that so nearly cost me my life. Memnon, for reasons that I do not presume to guess, wished to save them. They mock at thee and seek to create doubt of the promise that the Gods have given thee by spreading fear of the result among thy men. Every Greek well knows that Alexander cannot stand against thee and that he will never dare to meet thee in battle."

Phradates had cunningly formed his speech so as to assign a motive to the adverse predictions of the Greeks which would save the pride of the king, and yet, if he accepted it, would leave only one course open to him. Darius did not hesitate.

"They are spies!" he said angrily to Boupares. "Why did you bring them to me? Take them away and let them be questioned under the torture.

Perhaps then they will tell the truth."

Darius turned, and Phradates shot a look of triumph at the two friends.

Chares shook off the hand of the guard and was about to speak when Clearchus checked him.

"Silence," he whispered earnestly, "or we shall both be killed at once!"

Chares controlled himself with an effort, and the guards, under the direction of the crestfallen Boupares, led them away. Instead of conducting them to their former quarters, Boupares ordered that they be confined in the dungeons that lay beyond. These were built in a structure of massive masonry and consisted of cells with heavily barred doors at which sentries were stationed. Into one of the darkest of the cells they were thrust, and the grating was bolted behind them.

CHAPTER XXVII

NATHAN KEEPS HIS WORD

Clearchus and Chares shivered in the chill of the dungeon. By the glimmer of light that entered through a narrow opening above their heads, they saw that the place was quite bare. There was nothing but the stone floor under their feet and the four stone walls that shut them in.

"What think you, Chares?" Clearchus said, with the shadow of a smile.

"Nathan will never be able to rescue us from here."

"It does not look hopeful," the Theban replied, "but let us see."

He made a careful examination of the walls, finding everywhere the solid stone unbroken. The only openings in the cell were the tiny window and the door. The window was out of reach and so narrow that not even a cat could have squeezed through. Chares halted at the door and examined the bars. They were of hammered iron, as thick as the shaft of a lance, and rendered stronger by two cross-bars, welded from side to side. The Theban tested them gently with his hands and shook his head.

"The blacksmith who forged them was a good workman," he said.

At that moment they heard the step of the sentry outside in the passageway. The man carried at his girdle a bunch of great keys that rattled as he walked. He was armed with a short spear with a long, keen blade. He halted at the door of the cell.

"What are you doing there?" he said gruffly to Chares. "Get back!"

"No need to be angry, my friend," Chares returned good-naturedly, falling back from the door. "What are you going to do to us?"

The jailer's brutish face assumed an expression of pleasure that was evidently unfeigned.

"You know you are to be tortured to-morrow," he said, "and we do those things thoroughly here. I shall help. They could not get along without me."

"I suppose you are used to it," Chares ventured.

"My father taught me," the man replied proudly. "There is none in the empire better with the rack than I. And he showed me how to draw the band about a man's forehead until his eyes stick out of his head and his skull cracks like an egg, and all without killing him. Very few know the secret."

"And when you are through with the torture, what then?" asked Chares.