The chancellor did not wait for further permission. He disappeared into the passage like an old gray rat escaped from a trap.

"I am half sorry we spared him after all," Leonidas said regretfully.

"Let us see where we are."

They passed through the curtained door and into the temple. Twilight reigned beneath the lofty dome where the bats were still flitting.

This semi-darkness was artfully preserved so that the fire, which was the essential feature of the worship of Baal-Moloch, might be visible and effective during the sacrifices.

The Greeks found themselves in a vast hall of oblong shape. They were standing upon a platform of stone, raised for the height of a man above the main floor, to which a flight of broad and shallow steps descended.

A huge dark mass stood before them exactly under the dome, the sides of which were pierced by narrow slits that admitted the light of day.

This mass was the misshapen idol of Baal. The God was represented by a hollow statue of iron and bronze, sitting upon a throne. Its long arms terminated in hands that rested with palms upturned beside its knees.

Its enormous head was inclined slightly forward, and the expression upon its face was so cruel and malignant that Clearchus felt his blood chilled as he gazed upon it and thought of the hecatombs of innocent victims whose lives had been sacrificed to its ferocity.

There were larger and more splendid images of Baal in other Phnician cities, but none that was so venerated. It had been brought from the Temple of Baal-Moloch in the Old City on the mainland, where for centuries it had been the guardian of the place, receiving its sacrifices each year. In the old days even the first-born of the royal blood had been lifted in those blackened arms and rolled upon the iron knees to be roasted alive. The terrible face leaned above with distended nostrils, as though to inhale the odor of burning flesh, and thousands of mothers had watched its dreadful smile through the smoke with songs of praise on their lips and death in their hearts, while their babies writhed in agony in the pitiless embrace. Baal would accept no unwilling sacrifice, and the mother whose child was torn from her breast to be given to the God, not only lost her infant but was disgraced forever if she showed emotion while the rite was being performed.

In spite of themselves, the Macedonians were oppressed by a kind of superstitious dread as they looked at the grim visage that seemed to sneer down upon them.

The great portals of the temple, at the other end of the hall, were closed. On either side were rows of dark columns upholding the roof, which was painted to represent the heavens. Dim shapes of monsters, half beast and half human, appeared upon the walls.

The Greeks made a circuit of the temple but found no means of egress.

There were several anterooms similar to the one to which the subterranean passage had led them. These contained vestments, the implements used in the ceremonials, and a store of scented wood, dry as tinder, that furnished fuel for the sacrifices. In one of the rooms was a door which Joel believed connected with the building in which the priests were housed. The walls around the platform were draped with heavy hangings of black that formed a background for the image.

"Let us take counsel," Nathan said, casting a look of hatred at the idol. "Jehovah will not permit this monster to triumph over Him."

They withdrew into their recess to consider a plan of action.

"One thing is certain," Leonidas said. "Alone we can never prevent the sacrifice."

"My people will help us," Nathan said. "They will not give up their first-born without fighting."

"How many are they?" Clearchus asked.

"There are ten thousand of them in the city," Joel replied; "but they are not armed, excepting those who have been drafted to the defence of the walls."

"I have more faith in Alexander than I have in your people," Chares said bluntly. "He will be in the city before this day ends, unless the Gods have misled old Aristander."

"But will he come in time?" Leonidas asked. "Let Nathan and Joel go to the Israelites and rouse them to resist. Tell them that Alexander is coming and that he will protect them. We three will stay here and await the result."

To this the others gave their assent. It seemed a desperate chance, but it was all they had. There was a small window in the antechamber, high up in the wall. Nathan climbed up to it on the shoulders of the Greeks and looked through.

"There is nothing on this side but the cypress garden," he said.

"Farewell; you may be sure that we shall return, though we come alone."

He slipped through the window and dropped upon the turf outside. Joel followed him. The three Greeks, left alone in the temple, looked into each other's faces and Clearchus grasped his companions by the hand.

"You have placed your lives in peril for me," he said with emotion.

"Zeus grant that they be not demanded of you!"

"Pshaw!" Chares exclaimed, "are not our lives always in peril? If we must die, we shall die; and we are not permitted to choose where or how. When the Ferryman calls, we must go. For my part, if thou wouldst repay me, let me sleep, for my head is nodding."

Clearchus smiled, understanding his friend's aversion to any display of feeling. He embraced the Theban, who calmly lay down upon the stone floor; his eyes closed, and he began to snore gently.

Leonidas, whose tough frame defied fatigue, and Clearchus, whose mind was in a torment of doubt and suspense, stationed themselves behind the curtain that hid the door and waited, talking in whispers. They could hear the patter of raindrops and by the rising wind outside they knew that a storm was breaking over the city. Its breath entered through the slits in the dome, causing the dark hangings to sway against the wall. The gloomy temple seemed to be filled with mysterious murmurings. Some drops fell upon the image of Baal and ran glistening down the bronze head and broad, sleek shoulders.

Nathan and Joel made their way through the cypress thickets and scaled the wall of the temple garden. They found themselves in a narrow street which led them to a broader thoroughfare, where men were hurrying to and fro in the rain. Soldiers of the garrison, weary and hollow-eyed, were going to the defences. Citizens whose uneasy rest had been cut short by the tension of dread were early abroad in search of news.

"What of the enemy?" one of them asked of a soldier who was returning from the walls.

"They are coming out to attack," the soldier replied. "Their ships have already left the shore, and the stones will soon be falling about your ears."

"How much longer?" the citizen asked, with a groan.

"Ask that of the Gods," the soldier replied indifferently; "but I think the end will be soon, unless Moloch relents."

Joel and Nathan passed on, their appearance attracting no attention in a city where there were so many of their race.

"Hasten!" Nathan said. "Alexander is coming!"

As they advanced toward the quarter occupied by the Israelites, the streets became filled with people, nearly all of whom seemed to be drawn in the same direction that they themselves were taking. They fell in with a man who strode on with knitted brows and lips compressed. By his appearance he was a Hebrew, and Nathan addressed him in the Hebrew tongue.

"Whither goest thou?" he asked.

"To save the innocent from slaughter," the man replied fiercely. "Come with me if ye are men!"

"We will come with thee," Nathan said.

"There are the priests!" Joel exclaimed.

Half a dozen of the ministers of Baal, surrounded by a guard of soldiers, came down a cross street. They carried in their hands small bundles of short cords with which to bind the limbs of their victims.

The crowd gave way before them, gazing at their black robes and stern, fanatical faces with curiosity mingled with dread.

"May the curse of the Most High rest upon them!" the stranger cried, shaking his fist.

He began to run in the direction of the open square used by the Israelites as a market-place. Nathan and Joel raced after him. The clamor of voices raised in bitter lamentation reached them. They found the square choked with a surging mass of men and women who clasped little children to their breasts, seeking to protect them. The rain beat in their faces and the gusty wind tossed their garments. Some called upon their God, raising their hands toward heaven. Others shrieked the names of their offspring who had already been torn from them. Every house in the quarter was filled with weeping and cries of despair. The priests of Baal went hither and thither, seizing their prey in the name of the law wherever they found it.

Nathan and Joel halted at the edge of the square. The priests were searching through the crowd, many of them concealing a tiny burden beneath their robes of office. Feeble wailings betrayed the nature of these bundles. They were the children of the Israelites, bound hand and foot for the sacrifice.

While the young men stood looking, one of the priests discovered a woman who crouched upon the ground with her face hidden in her dishevelled hair. He grasped her roughly by the shoulder and drew her back, disclosing the fact that she had been shielding her baby beneath her bosom. The child raised its dimpled hands and tried to touch its mother's wet cheeks. The priest seized them and tore the infant from her. She clutched the skirt of his robe and followed him on her knees through the mire, begging piteously for the child.

"You have so many already," she said, "and he is all I have! Surely Baal does not require my little one. He will be appeased. Give him back to me!"

The priest turned and struck her upturned face with his clenched hand.

She uttered a cry of anguish and released his robe, falling back senseless to the earth.

An inarticulate sound burst from the lips of the man who had guided Nathan and Joel to the market-place.

"O Lord, my God!" he shouted, raising his hands to the leaden sky. "I had two children to be the staff and prop of my old age. Wilt Thou suffer them to be taken from me? We have remained faithful to Thee; is this to be our reward?"

Nathan was about to spring upon the guard that surrounded the priests before him when the tall figure of an old man strode into the square.