Cestus squared his shoulders as he uttered this brave speech, and went, with something of a swagger in his gait, to reach down his cloak. ‘Oh, I’m not afraid,’ replied Neæra calmly, ‘and I have my father at hand.’ ‘Ay, that’s true!’ said Cestus slily, ‘and another still better, who could tear the cur limb from limb—nevertheless, don’t fail to let me know. I have some previous knowledge of the fellow, which makes me curious, and I may easily be useful.’ Thus delivering himself he went forth into the bright sunlight and the crisp keen air. Instinctively his feet turned in the direction of the road which led to the southern promontory of Minerva. It was a customary route of his, but it was also on a main line of communication with the island, and the desperate chance of meeting with somebody, or something, which might afford a glimmer even of news, burned stronger than ever in his breast. This something was, however, painfully vague, and the somebody really limited itself to only one person. The sight of Martialis would have been as joyful to him as rain to the thirsty in the desert, taking even into consideration, that what the Centurion could impart, even if he should prove to have the inclination, would hardly be likely to throw any light upon his peculiar needs. Added to this was the fact of the young soldier’s aversion. But Cestus was not easily abashed or discouraged, and had no fear of being able finally to command attention. He reached his observatory and sat down to rest and deliberate. Capreae lay before him amid the blue sea, with the white gleam of its palaces tipping its rugged peaks and peeping amid its terraced groves. With this lovely picture filling his vision, he sat for full an hour absorbed in thought, and then noting the position of the sun, he rose and walked away homeward. He had reconciled himself to his position, and had come to the conclusion that his only policy was to wait and be watchful. He also determined, on the least suspicion of danger, to carry off the potter and his family to Rome—Neæra at least; if, however, he could persuade them to go at once so much the better. He could do nothing at Surrentum; he was tired of it, and he would feel safer in the city, whither he would eventually be obliged to go to carry out his scheme. Why not, therefore, go at once and wait there? The thought also tormented him, that something might occur which might rob him of his revenge. He burned and itched to set the wheels of his machinery in motion, however slightly, and he resolved that day to take the first step for that end. If it was no more than a mysterious hint to certain people, that something was in the wind, it would be sufficient for a commencement. His spirits rose and his steps quickened as this determination was arrived at, and, re‐entering Surrentum, he proceeded to the dwelling of a professional scribe near the Marina. He entered and found that individual busy at his table, inditing