‘Not at all,’ replied the Suburan quietly; ‘cannot you understand? Money has been at the bottom of it all. You have an enormous amount of it, and the child was in some one’s way. Once out of it, and then who comes next? Why your loving nephew, Afer—now do you see?’ ‘Fellow, what do you mean? Do you dare to cast even so much as a doubt upon the honesty of a knight—a relative of mine?—take care!’ ‘More than that, your honour, I say it was no other, and through no other, than your nephew, T. Domitius Afer, that your child was kidnapped.’ ‘Fellow!’ ‘It is true enough. He wanted her out of the way so that he might be your heir. For that end he hired a certain individual, now alive, for a comfortable sum to put her aside, so that she might never more be heard of.’ ‘I’ll not believe it,’ cried the old patrician hoarsely; ‘it must be proved—where is that wretch whom you say he hired?’ ‘What would you do with him supposing I brought him?’ ‘Were I forty years younger I would tear him limb from limb with my own hands—but now nothing remains to me but the justice of the law.’ ‘Neither the one nor the other, although he is within your reach at this moment, for I am the man who was employed by your sweet nephew—I am the man who took away your child!’ Fabricius stood dumfounded for a moment, and his jaw fell. Then the blood rushed to his face; his eyes flamed with terrible wrath, and, with a stride, he confronted Cestus. ‘Dog!’ he shouted hoarsely, as he clutched the Suburan with a grasp which was inspired with the vigour of youth. But Cestus, in no way disconcerted, calmly pulled out the written guarantee from his bosom and held it up. The old man eyed it, hesitatingly, for a brief moment; then dropped his hands and tottered back to his chair, wherein he sank with a groan.