Antiphilos got into a scrape that called for some very good friend. A slave of his, Syros by name and a Syrian by nation, joined himself to a gang of temple-robbers, and, entering the temple of Anoubis in their company, stole from the god two golden goblets, a caduceus-this also of gold some dog-headed gods in silver, and other booty of the sort, which was all stored with Syros. They were caught selling some article and imprisoned, and when they were stretched on the wheel they straightway confessed the whole. Being led forth, they came to Antiphilos's house and brought out the booty, which was lodged under a bed in a dark corner. Both Syros and his master were immediately bound, Antiphilos being seized in the middle of his professor's lecture. Nobody rescued him, but even those who had been his companions turned away from the man who was said to have robbed Anoubis, and they counted it an impiety in themselves if they had ever drunk or feasted with him. His other slaves, two in number, cleared everything out of the house, and ran off.

The unhappy Antiphilos had accordingly been in durance a long time, with the reputation of being the most abandoned malefactor in the prison, and the Egyptian jailer, a superstitious man, considered that he was pleasing and avenging the god by bearing heavily on Antiphilos. If he ever defended himself, declaring that he had never done anything of the sort, he was thought utterly shameless, and hated the more. Presently he fell ill and suffered a great deal, naturally, for he slept on the ground, and at night he could not stretch out his legs because they were in the stocks. For by day the collar and a handcuff on the left-hand were enough, but at night they must needs bind him completely. Moreover, the illstench of the place, the stifling atmosphere created by so many prisoners confined in the same room, cramped for space and hardly breathing, the clang of iron, the scarcity of sleep-all these things were oppressive and unendurable to a man who was unused to them, and had had no experience of such a squalid life.

When he had begun to despair, and would not even take food, Demetrios arrived one day, ignorant of all these events. When he learned how things stood he came running forthwith to the prison, but he was not admitted then, for it was evening, and the jailer had locked the door some time before and gone to sleep, bidding his slaves to keep guard. But early in the morning he got in, after many supplications, and, passing along, sought Antiphilos for a long time, whose sufferings had made him unrecognizable. Making the round he examined each of the prisoners, as people do who are searching in the ranks for their own dead, already disfigured by death. And if he had not called his name, "Antiphilos Deinomenous!" it would have been some time before he recognized him, so greatly was he changed by the horrors he had experienced. But when Antiphilos heard the voice he called in reply, and, as the other approached, he parted his hair, filthy and matted with dirt, and drew it back from his face and showed who he was. Both the friends fell swooning at the unexpected sight, but presently Demetrios raised himself and Antiphilos too, and inquired of him exactly how everything stood. He bade him be of good courage, and, tearing his cloak in two, he wrapped himself in one half and the other he gave to Antiphilos, stripping off the dirty, ragged clouts he wore.