Thenceforward, unspoken, yet felt as surely as though expressed,
there existed in Heraklas' mind a constant suspicion of Athribis.

Heraklas carried the papyrus roll with him, day and night. Well did
he know the danger, but he said to himself that he would not be
dictated to by a servant. That was the ostensible reason he gave
himself for not immediately burning the roll. In reality, he knew
that the words of the Christians' Book had pierced his soul. He
dared not burn the book. He stood before its searching words a
convicted sinner.

The suspicion of veiled surveillance that haunted Heraklas made him
cautious of reading his, papyrus at home. He sought places, to read
it abroad. Hidden among the crags beside the sea, or in the vines on
the banks of Lake Mareotis, Heraklas read, and waged the soul-
struggle that had risen within him.

One day Heraklas had hidden himself among the northern crags beside
the great sea. His eyes were bent upon his roll. He had been reading
John's record of the conversation between Christ and the man who was
born blind.

"Jesus said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God?"

The man whose eyes Christ had opened, answered and said, "Who is he,
Lord, that I might believe on him?"

"Dost thou believe on the Son of God?"