Step by step he pursued the leisurely track of the knight until they reached the centre of the town, where Afer visited one or two shops. After this they entered the baths, and Cestus was left to cool his heels for a considerable time outside. He was a sleuth‐hound of undaunted mettle, however, when once on a scent, and there being a wine‐shop at no great distance, whence he could watch the door of the building his quarry had entered, he proceeded thither, and sat patiently over a bowl of thin wine. He was determined to see the last of them, since he could neither live nor move in peace, if haunted by the possibility of encountering them at any chance time face to face. After a long delay his patience was rewarded by the sight of the knight issuing refreshed from the bath, and taking his way, followed by his retainer, toward the Marina. Here they perhaps meant to take boat to the island, thought Cestus, with a sigh of relief. But no, he was disappointed; for they entered an inn of considerable pretensions, and the Suburan was doomed to another lengthy delay, whilst the knight was most probably dining. The afternoon was wearing on. The dusk was beginning to thicken when the watcher’s eyes were once more gladdened by the appearance of master and slave. He rejoiced to see them saunter across to the steps which led down to the Marina. Thence he had no more need to follow, but, leaning over the cliff, observed their movements without difficulty and danger, and ere long watched them speeding over the darkening sea before a fair breeze. Cestus gave a deep sigh of relief. When they were nearly out of sight he turned homeward, and, for a season at least, was at liberty to devote his attention entirely to his own deliberations. CHAPTER XIII. Away from his haunts in the Imperial city, where his wits were kept ever bright and sharp by the friction of crowded humanity, the Suburan had fallen under the lethargic influence of utter inoccupation in a comparatively lifeless provincial town. His mind, latterly, may be said to have only smouldered. It has been seen how instantaneously and unexpectedly it was roused into high excitement and activity from a state of mere passive existence. Just as the blast of a forge‐bellows kindles, in an instant, a dull smoking heap of black ashes into a glowing fiery mass, so the sight of Domitius Afer inflamed the listless spirit of Cestus. Fearing lest he should betray some symptoms of his perturbed mind to the keen eyes around the supper‐table at home, he wandered along aimlessly until the time for that meal should pass, and his thoughts become more serene. To assist the latter process he visited one or two wine‐shops which crossed his random path, and fortified himself with some hearty draughts of liquor. Thence he passed on to the outskirts of the town and sought the silent roads and darkness. Here were solitude and the brooding stars, circumstances most apt for philosophising.