CHAPTER VIII.
From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though there was a startled movement among them.
"O my brother! my brother!" murmured Heraklas, the tears running down his face in the dark, "I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!" "Heraklas!" cried Timokles, "Heraklas! How camest thou hither ?" "Peace!" whispered Heraklas in terror.

"Thou wilt be heard!" Heraklas cast his arms about his brother and clung to him.
"How art thou bound, my Timokles ?" asked Heraklas, when they had embraced and wept together.
"My feet are bound with naught but cords, but a chain about my body fasteneth me to a hook in the wall," answered Timokles.

"Thou canst not release me, my brother! Flee, while thou canst!" "Nay, but I will try," whispered Heraklas resolutely.
He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that bound his brother's ankles, cut the knots.

Timokles sighed with relief, as he moved his cramped feet.

The feet of two of the other Christians were bound with thongs, and these Heraklas cut also, but the other five Christians were bound hand and foot with chains, and for them Heraklas' knife could not avail.