city, whither I had gone on his account, I was beset by a gang of ruffians, and left for dead. There was life, however, left in me when they had done, and, as luck would have it, I was picked up and taken charge of. I since have discovered that the whole was only a cunning plot to remove me and my knowledge out of the world. I have been all this time recovering, and here I am. Balbus is a saddened old man, but hale. My young master walks about, relieved in the thought that he has cleverly got rid of me, who knew enough to utterly confound him. He shall be disagreeably surprised. You, kinsman, will befriend me, as well as my sister Tibia. These few traps will confirm the matter. The girl will get her own again, and I shall be revenged on a paltry, white‐livered knave as ever stepped the earth.’ Cestus ceased, and a long pause ensued. ‘Is all this truth, kinsman?’ said Masthlion at length. ‘That you shall presently know beyond all doubt,’ replied the Suburan. ‘It seems all so strange to think that my Neæra should prove to be nobly born.’ ‘The grandchild of a senator, no less!’ ‘Ah me!’ sighed the potter dejectedly; ‘then are we parted indeed.’ ‘That question of difference, between the Centurion and her, will trouble you no longer, kinsman,’ said Cestus. ‘Nothing will trouble me now concerning her, except that I shall never see her more; she has passed beyond my care, alas!’ said Masthlion, with deep emotion. ‘Take a draught of wine, kinsman,’ observed Cestus; ‘it is a wonderful balm for scratched feelings.’ Masthlion, with a sad smile, filled up his cup—‘I drink to the child’s happy restoration and her future welfare;’ and he added, after a pause, ‘May she be tended as lovingly and tenderly as she has been under this humble roof.’ ‘I will drink to that with pleasure,’ cried the other; ‘restored she shall be, without doubt, but, for the rest, I cannot say.’ They both drank and set down their cups, and Cestus remarked that it was time he was in bed. ‘Enough for to‐night; it has given you something to ponder over, and we can have some more to say presently. But, until the time is ripe to act, potter, you must keep all this secret. Not a word to the child, or to your wife, until fit time.’ ‘I will not,’ answered Masthlion. ‘Swear it, kinsman, for we may have to wait long yet.’ ‘I never broke my word,’ said Masthlion proudly. ‘Enough; then I will trust to you,’ said Cestus. ‘Roll up those traps and keep them safe; and, on your life, breathe not a word to a living soul. Good‐night!’