Was this the cruel Tiberius? It was hardly to be realised! It was so extraordinary that his heart failed, as the sickening thought crept into his mind that he was the victim of refined cruelty. His senses were on the alert, with an expectation which was positive pain. If Caesar were as good as his word, he would be breathing the pure air of heaven in a few hours. The thought filled him with the glowing warmth and comfort of wine. On Cestus everything depended. Had he left for Rome? Should he meet him at the house of Fabricius? Had he the proofs, as he asserted, and would they be conclusive and satisfactory to the old man? Was she really anything but the simple girl he had always known her? The potter’s wife said she never had a child of her own. Her beauty seemed never to spring from such lowly parents. She bore no resemblance to them, and her lofty courage was such as comes with the proud blood of ancient ancestry. Thus, with a multitude of thoughts vivid and wild, presumptive, yet inconclusive, he waited and burned for the hour of his deliverance. It came, at last, in the person of Zeno and half a dozen Pretorians. The Centurion played his part well, and asked various questions as to his destination and fate; but, when they produced bonds to fasten him, he drew back. ‘No—not those,’ said he proudly; ‘I will go with you, comrades, without giving you the trouble of a knot or a buckle.’ They assented, and presently all left the cell and marched down to the Marina. Here they took boat, and were rowed to the north‐west side of the island, where the villa Neptune stood. Ascending the cliffs by a narrow flight of steps cut in the rock, they reached the level ground above and entered the villa. Martialis was conducted to a cell beneath ground, and very similar to the one he had left, save that it was somewhat larger. Wine and food was brought him, and he proceeded at once to make a hearty meal. The fresh air had invigorated him, and dispelled, in a great measure, the vapours with which his drugged drink had filled him. Moreover, it was dusk by the time they had entered the villa, and he expected and hoped to encounter a night’s toil. He had just finished eating when the key rattled in the lock, and Caesar entered. ‘Have you eaten well, for you have a long journey before you?’ asked Tiberius. ‘I am ready,’ replied Martialis. ‘Then listen! On your own concern, proceed as you think best, but first of all you must carry and deliver a letter for me.’ ‘I will ride without a single stop.’