A mighty sob rose in his throat.

The Christian was indeed Timokles! How worn he was! And that brand upon his cheek! Athribis bent forward.

Timokles' eyes were opening.
"Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze, he recognized the slave.
"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I see you once again.

My Christian master!" The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone.
Timokles looked around, bewildered.

A quiver passed over his lips.
Athribis reminded him of home.
"Is my mother here ?" asked Timokles.