roofs and turrets of Jerusalem, rather than meet the gaze of the man who, he knew, hated him even as he hated the Nazarene, and even now took pleasure in the grief he was inflicting. Even while he gazed upwards toward the sky, he wondered why it did not open and give a sign that this was the Son of God, if such He was. Then, feeling that the question must be settled, he turned to Caiaphas.
"Tell me again, Caiaphas, on what charge shall we then try Him and condemn Him. Hath He indeed guilt at all, or is it but to satisfy the proud Caiaphas, to make his words of prophecy come true?"
"He hath blasphemed, I tell thee," answered Caiaphas sharply, beginning to lose his temper, "in that He hath called Himself the Son of God."
"To call Himself the Son of God is not a sin," retorted Pilate, righting yet, though he felt the weakness of his argument; "for we are all the children of God. Thou thyself in thy prophecy dost say that 'Jesus should die for this nation, and not for this nation only, but that also He should gather together all the children of God which were scattered abroad.' Who, then, meanest thou by the children of God?"
Doubtless, in his subtlety, the High Priest could have found some pungent answer with which to explain away his words, but, at that moment, a noise of many voices raised in excited talk, and the tramping of many feet outside, drowned the last words of Pilate; and ere Caiaphas could reply a centurion entered hurriedly.
"Pardon, rabbis," he began, "but it seemed to
