The Greek took the suspected cylinder into his long supple fingers, and made a very minute scrutiny of the junction of the bosses at either end. Then, by patient and delicate, but firm manipulation, he proceeded to try if they were detachable. After a considerable amount of persuasive force of handling, one of the bosses yielded a hair’s‐breadth. He renewed his efforts, and the Emperor’s eyes glistened. The boss became looser and looser, and in a minute’s time came off altogether. They were now enabled to perceive that the original bosses had been fitted to a new cylinder. That one which had been removed, instead of being affixed in the usual way to a flat surface, had been hollowed a little to receive the end of the roller, and then tightened with a thin application of glue. The roller, as Zeno had suspected, was hollow. He turned it upside down and a little scroll of very thin paper dropped out. The fingers of the Emperor closed on it like lightning. His eyes flamed with a ferocious delight as he carefully unrolled a few inches of the fragile document and read therein. ‘Haste—bring tablets, paper, anything—like the wind!’ he whispered excitedly. Zeno hastened away, and Tiberius, huddling against the lamp, devoured the contents of the secret missive with eyes starting from his head, and mouth agape in astonishment. Rage, hate, and delirious joy thrilled him as he read. His hands, his body, and his limbs trembled with the force of his excitement. Swiftly reading to the close, he dropped the little quivering paper, and laughed with triumph. Startled by his own voice he looked fearfully round at Martialis; but the Centurion lay deathlike in the profound stupor of his drugged slumbers. With uneasy, hasty steps the Emperor paced the narrow dungeon, muttering inaudibly until Zeno entered with writing materials. Then he sat down to make a copy of the secret, and evidently fateful, missive intended for the eyes of the Prefect alone. The task occupied longer than it would otherwise have done, owing to the agitated mind and trembling fingers of the writer; but at length it came to an end. The original letter was restored to its hiding‐place in the roller, and the boss skilfully replaced by Zeno, who carefully heated the incrusted glue over the flame of the lamp to cause it to hold firmly. The documents were then replaced in the pouch of the Centurion, and his dress arranged without a sign to show that he had been tampered with. ‘Send to the Prefect with the first light of day, and acquaint him with the position of his courier and the causes thereof,’ said Tiberius. ‘He will, without doubt, attend personally—let him see his messenger if he wishes, and obtain his despatches with his own hands. When that is done and he is gone, I will see this youth myself. We have made a good night’s work—you will find it to your benefit as to mine—now to bed!’ CHAPTER XXV.