Pudens and Titus exchanged glances, for they had met the student and slave still hurrying rapidly along. He was the real culprit, but he had heard the silversmiths call for the police, and had taken to his heels. Pudens had seen him stop at the house of a knight a street or two distant, and run up the steps with a speed which a Roman regarded as very undignified. ‘Come with me,’ he said to the police, ‘and I think I can take you to the real offender. This youth is innocent, though things look against him.’ Followed by the crowd, who grumbled a little at losing the enjoyment of watching the trial, Pudens led them to the knight’s house. The little slave was amusing himself with hopping to and fro under the vestibule. ‘Keep back, Quirites,’ said the head _vigil_. ‘The centurion and I will ask a question here.’ ‘Do you know this axe, my small _salaputium_[32]?’ said Pudens. ‘Yes,’ said the child with alacrity, for he was too young to understand the situation. ‘It is ours. We dropped it not long ago.’ ‘The case is clear,’ said Pudens. ‘I will be witness;’ and he offered his ears for the officer to touch.[33] ‘Meanwhile you can set this youth free.’ The officer touched his ear with the recognised formula. ‘Remember, you will be my witness in this case.’ The student was arrested, but his father got him off by a large secret bribe to the police and to the silversmiths. The crowd dispersed, and Pudens and Titus, without waiting to watch the issue of the affair, turned their steps towards the Vicus Apollinis, which led to the Palace. Soon afterwards they heard footsteps behind them, and, turning round, saw the youth whom they had rescued. ‘What more do you want?’ said Pudens, in answer to his eager, appealing look. ‘I have got you out of your trouble; is not that enough?’ ‘I am weak, and hungry, and a stranger,’ said the youth, humbly. ‘He wants money,’ whispered Titus, and drawing a denarius from the breast of his toga, he put it into his hand. But, kneeling down, the stranger seized the hem of the scarlet sagum which Pudens happened to be wearing, and kissing it, exclaimed, ‘Oh, sir, take me into your household! I will do anything!’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘My name is Onesimus.’ ‘A good name, and of good omen.[34] _What_ are you? You look like a slave. Not a runaway slave, I hope?’ ‘No sir,’ said Onesimus, to whom a lie came as easy as to most of his race. ‘I lived at Colossæ. I was kidnapped by a slave-dealer, but I escaped.’ ‘And you want to go back to Colossæ?’ ‘No sir. I am left an orphan. I want to earn my living here.’ ‘Take him,’ said Titus. ‘You have plenty of room for an extra slave, and I like his looks.’ But Pudens hesitated. ‘A Phrygian slave!’ he said; ‘why even proverbs warn me against him.’ He quoted two, _sotto voce_, to Titus--‘Worst of the Mysians,’ used of persons despicably bad; and ‘More cowardly than a Phrygian hare.’