an epistle to the dictation of a young and good‐looking woman, who instantly became silent and turned away her head at the Suburan’s entrance. The writer, who was a bald, shrivelled, and short‐sighted old man, did not immediately perceive the cause of the sudden stoppage of his customer’s eloquence, and casting a longing look at a large open book at his elbow, cried out testily, ‘Well, well, what next?—oh it’s you, is it? you’ll have to wait outside till I’ve finished!’ ‘A love letter, eh! All right, I’m sorry to interrupt,’ replied Cestus, giving a leer at the young female who tossed her head. He went outside and waited till she came forth, and then returned to take her place at the scribe’s table. ‘Well!’ snapped the old man, tearing his eyes from his book with a vicious wrench, as if the patronage which brought him his livelihood were a nuisance instead of a thing to be thankful for. ‘Tablets, wax and thread of your best, old man; bring them out and let me see them,’ answered Cestus. ‘I and a comrade have a good joke in hand, and I want you to write a line or two of mystery. You must put your best finger foremost, and shape your letters so as to make them look as if they came from some aristocrat.’ He drew a piece of silver from his pouch and threw it across the table to the scribe, whose watery, old eyes glinted as his grimy fingers caused the coin to vanish with an astounding celerity. Cestus laughed, and the same grimy talons selected the articles required, which the Suburan took into his hands. He examined them carefully, not with a view of satisfying himself of their quality, about which he knew nothing whatever, but for the purpose of assuring himself that they bore no mark or impress which might afford a clue to their origin. This proving to his satisfaction, he told the old man to go on with his reading, whilst he considered upon the style the document was to take. After a few minutes’ deliberation he bade the scribe take his pen and write the following with every care:— ‘You may praise the gods and rejoice, Fabricius. When thieves fall out then may honest men look to get their own. The treasure you lost shall return to you. Prepare to receive it and deal vengeance. These tablets ere you receive them shall touch her very hand. You have often been deceived, but now wait the truth. Do you recognise this ribbon? Keep it carefully till the remainder is forthcoming. Patience and, above all, silence! I am beset; and to breathe a word would be destruction to me and to her. Beware, therefore!’ ‘That’s all—now read it out!’ said Cestus; and the old scribe did so accordingly. The Suburan laughed in his most boisterous style, and rubbed the palms of his thick, strong hands together vigorously with every appearance of satisfied delight at his composition.