For this is where your great difficulty lies: each of those whom you will strip has surely something—one a cup, another a chalice, another a garland, and each of these may be of bronze, gold, or silver. And it is still not clear whether that which each man has is the holy object. So you have every reason to hesitate about whom to accuse of temple-robbery. In this case, even if all had similar objects, even so it would be uncertain who had stolen the property of the god—for these articles may be private property too. The sole reason for our ignorance, I suppose, is that the missing chalice has no inscription (assuming that it is a chalice), since if it had been inscribed with the name of the god or the person who had made the dedication we should have had less difficulty, and when we had found the inscribed chalice we should stop stripping and troubling the others. I think, Hermotimus, that you have often watched athletic contests?

You think rightly. Many a time, in many places.

Now, have you ever sat near the judges themselves?

In former times, when Heracles was judge, bay-leaves . . .

Don’t tell me about former times, Hermotimus, but what you saw from near at hand.

A silver urn dedicated to the god is placed before them. Into this are thrown small lots, the size of beans, with letters on them. Two are marked alpha, two beta, two gamma, and so on in the same way, if there are more competitors, two lots always having the same letter. Each of the competitors comes up, offers a prayer to Zeus, puts his hand into the urn, and picks up one of the lots. After him another does the same. A policeman stands by each one and holds his hand, not letting him read what the letter is which he has drawn. When all now have their own, the chief police officer, I think it is, or one of the National Judges themselves (I don’t remember now) goes round the competitors, who are standing in a circle, and inspects their lots. In this way he matches one who has alpha to the one who has drawn the other alpha for the wrestling or the pancratium. Similarly he matches the two betas, and the others with the same letter in the same way. This is what he does if the contestants are even in number—eight or four or twelve, for instance—but if they are odd—five or seven or nine—he throws in with the rest a lot marked with an odd letter which has no duplicate. Whoever draws this is given a bye and stands out until the rest have competed, for he has no corresponding letter. This is no small boon to the competitor—the opportunity to come fresh against tired opponents.