Athribis the slave bent lower--lower yet.

What was this that he saw?
He was on the roof of the house in Alexandria.

Through an open space beside the wind-sail next to him, he could look into a small room below.
In that room, his master Heraklas knelt and carefully drew a brick from its place in the wall.

Putting his hand into some hole that seemed to be behind the bricks, Heraklas produced a roll of papyrus.
He glanced stealthily around, and, kneeling still, unrolled the writing, and read in eager haste, one hand on the brick, ready at the sound of any coming footsteps to thrust the papyrus quickly into the wall again.

It was a thing well pleasing to the treacherous soul of Athribis that he should have discovered some secret of his master.
"What is the writing, that he hideth it there ?" the slave questioned himself.
Heraklas continued to read.