Though Quintus Fabricius had long since withdrawn from public life, and spent his days mainly in the library of his mansion, he was not altogether so secluded in his habits, as to entirely forego the society of two or three ancient friends and colleagues of the busy days of politics gone by. From supper at the house of one of these, he returned one evening at an early old‐fashioned hour, and upon entering his own hall, was met by Natta, his ancient steward, who informed him, that a man who had travelled for days to see him, was now awaiting him on some pressing business. Fabricius, thinking, perhaps, it was some affair connected with some distant estate, desired the visitor to be brought, and, entering his favourite library, sat down before the fire, being still deep in the thoughts of a literary discussion which had raged over the supper‐table. In a few moments Natta ushered in Cestus. He looked pale and worn; his brows wore an anxious wrinkle, and his glance was uneasy and restless. It was now the fourth evening following that on which Martialis had quitted him in the despoiled dwelling of Masthlion. The wind blowing fair, and promising a speedy voyage, he had embarked on a trader bound for Ostia, but contrary to expectation the passage proved long and tedious, owing to the wind falling light and baffling. On reaching port, with a mind overwrought with impatience, he posted along without stop, until he reached the mansion on the Janiculum. It was not without an amount of distrust he appeared before the old ex‐senator. It was no pricking of conscience for the wrong he had done him, but purely fear, lest he might be recognised in connection with the part he had played in that self‐same room, at no great distance of time back, when he had acted the part of a murderous decoy. He trusted, however, to his changed appearance, which he had ever maintained, and, at the worst, was confident that he had the power to make almost his own terms. He met the scrutiny of Fabricius, therefore, with his accustomed boldness, and when, after a lengthened survey, the old man motioned him forward and asked his business, he felt relieved with the assurance that he was not recognised. ‘I have come a long way from the south—I have been travelling for days to see you,’ said he; ‘that means important business, noble Fabricius, and I must ask you to hear it alone with me.’ But Natta was deaf to the hint and moved not from his post behind; nor did his master give him any sign to do so. ‘My steward has my confidence in everything—go on!’ said Fabricius. ‘You will pardon me, but before a third person I cannot speak; nor would you suffer another to be present if you knew what I had to say.’ ‘Then leave it unsaid!’ replied the old man testily. Cestus drew near him and said in a low tone, ‘Did you not receive a letter, not long ago, containing a piece of ribbon?’ Fabricius started and fixed an intent look on the Suburan. His breast heaved with a sudden emotion.