‘The men are there at your service. You need not be at so much pains to excuse the trouble you feel called upon to give,’ said Martialis, with a frown at the man’s impertinence and vulgar assumption of importance. ‘Thanks, Centurion, much,’ responded Tigellinus; ‘then, with your kind permission, I will ask my good friend Rufus, whom I see there, to go on my errand.’ Singling out a certain man from amongst the guard, he took him aside and imparted his injunctions. The man departed, and Tigellinus turned round and said: ‘In which palace does Caesar rest at present, Centurion?’ ‘In the villa of Neptune,’ returned Martialis briefly, turning to leave the shore. ‘The villa of Neptune!’ echoed the other, with a grimace. ‘Just my luck! Of course, when I come on shore, I must needs find my patron in the furthest corner of the island, at the far end of the most toilsome path—humph! And the Prefect, the mighty Sejanus, your commander, Centurion?—Proud‐stomached puppy!’ The last expression was not applied to the dreaded Prefect, but, in an undertone, to the contemptuous back which the young officer had abruptly turned upon him. ‘’Tis the pampered creature of the pampered master,’ he muttered sneeringly to himself, ‘but there is a day in store for them, or I am mistaken. Tell me then quickly, where is the Prefect lodging in this island of palaces? with which of the gods does he at present reside, if the Caesar lives with Neptune?’ This last question, loudly asked, was answered by one of the coastguard men, to the effect that the Prefect was housed, with his retinue, in the villa dedicated to Mercury, which stood on the hill, on the north side, overlooking the town and the Marina. ‘Take us not to the Mercury of the Prefect, nor yet the Neptune of Caesar,’ said the guarded voice of one of the heavily‐shrouded females, in his ear; ‘but to the lares and penates of some humble and obscure islander, where we may rest unnoticed and secure.’ ‘If that be your wish, noble lady, you had better retire at once into one of the grottoes of the cliffs,’ replied Tigellinus, ‘for on this mite of an island everything is known; and one cannot hope to live on its face and remain secret. This is not Rome, but a tiny spot, where want of occupation renders everybody and their business the concern of everybody else. It is a strange place, and one not lightly to be meddled with, as no doubt you will discover before you are quit of it, my lady.’ The merchant, or whatever he was, gave a laugh. ‘Spare your remarks, and do as I bid you,’ said Plautia, for it was no other than she, who, together with a slave, had thus carried out her intention of visiting Capreae; ‘you know to whom you are answerable for my safe and secret conveyance to this spot.’ ‘Perfectly well, noble Plau——’ ‘Silence; you have already said sufficient, and it is unnecessary for your lips to speak my name at any time—still less in this spot. Come, let us dally here no longer.’