In the meantime the latter met with a calamity which required a very staunch friend. His slave, Syrus by name and Syrian by nationality, joined certain temple-robbers, and entered the temple of Anubis with them. They robbed the god of two golden libation-bowls, a caduceus, also of gold, some dog-headed figures of silver, and other such matters, all of which they left in trust with Syrus. Then, after their imprisonment (for they were taken when they tried to sell something), they at once told everything when they were broken on the wheel, came under escort to the house of Antiphilus, and fetched out the stolen goods, which were lying under a bed in a dark corner. Consequently Syrus was confined at once, and with him his master, Antiphilus, who was actually seized while he listened to a lecture by his teacher. Nobody came to his assistance; on the contrary, even his erstwhile friends turned their backs upon him on the ground that he had robbed the Anubideum and considered it an act of impiety on their own part if they had ever drunk or eaten with him. Moreover, the two remaining servants bundled up everything in the house and made off.

Poor Antiphilus therefore remained in confinement for a long time, regarded as the most villainous of all the malefactors that there were in the prison, and the Egyptian keeper, a superstitious fellow, thought to gratify and avenge his god by exercising his authority over Antiphilus with a heavy hand. Whenever he defended himself, saying that he had not done anything of the sort, he was thought brazen-faced, and was detested much more for it. Consequently, he sickened at length and was ill, as might be expected in view of the fact that he slept on the ground and at night could not even stretch out his legs, which were confined in the stocks. By day, to be sure, the collar was sufficient, together with manacles upon one hand; but for the night he had to be fully secured by his bonds. Moreover, the stench of the room and its stifling air (since many were confined in the same place, cramped for room, and scarcely able to draw breath), the clash of iron, the scanty sleep—all these conditions were difficult and intolerable for such a man, unwonted to them and unschooled to a life so rigorous.

He was giving up the struggle and refusing even to take food when Demetrius came back, knowing nothing of what had happened until then. As soon as he found out, he set off, just as he was, straight for the prison at arun. At that time, however, he was not admitted, for it was evening and the keeper had long ago locked the door and gone to sleep, after directing his servants to keep watch; but in the morning he obtained admission by vehement entreaty. After entering he made a long search for Antiphilus, who had become unrecognisable through his miseries. He went about examining each of the prisoners just as people do who seek out their own dead amon the altered bodies on battle-fields. Indeed, had he not called his name aloud, ‘ Antiphilus, son of Deinomenes,” he would not for a long time have known which was he, so greatly had he been changed by his dire straits. But Antiphilus, hearing his voice, cried out; and, as Demetrius approached, he parted his long hair, all unkempt and matted, drew it away from his face, and so disclosed his identity. At once both fell in a faint at the unexpected sight.

After a time Demetrius brought both himself and Antiphilus to their senses, and ascertained from him definitely how everything stood. Then he bade him have no fear, and tearing his short cloak in two, put on one of the halves himself and gave the remainder to Antiphilus, after stripping from him the filthy, worn-out rags that he was wearing.