I knew the voice at once, although the speaker was disguised.
It was that of Laban the Israelite, he who had been betrothed to Merapi, and had striven to murder us in the land of Goshen.

What did he here?
I wondered dimly.
Ki was speaking.

"Hark how the Hebrew cat spits," he said.

"Well, the cause has been tried and the verdict given, and I think that the familiar should feed the flames before the witch.

Watch him now, and perhaps he will change into something else." All this he said, smiling in his usual pleasant fashion, even when he made a sign to certain black temple slaves who stood near.