The expectation was realised. He had only gone a very short distance when his eyes were gladdened by the expected figure of the Suburan, who came up breathing hurriedly. Afer surveyed his bloodshot eyes and disordered dress, his uncombed locks, and general hang‐dog, not to say ferocious, aspect, with which a night of revelry, succeeded by very brief slumbers, had endowed him. ‘Good‐morrow!’ said the knight, in reply to salutations and apologies. ‘I perceive you have succeeded in appeasing your ravenous appetite, my Cestus—I see it in your face. You have also drunk wine to aid digestion, which has probably interfered with your sleep.’ ‘It is the danger of the ravenous stomach that it overloads itself when it gets the opportunity,’ replied Cestus, with a grin and a hiccough. ‘You are drunk yet, my good fellow!’ proceeded the knight calmly. ‘Nay, patron, I am sober enough to walk steadily and keep a secret. Besides, I found that the aediles, or the gods, have caused the fountain of Orpheus to play again this morning; so that, when I passed it just now, I dipped my head into his clear basin, which makes me as fresh as a young girl meeting sunrise.’ ‘You have that appearance. Did you accept the renewed flow of the fountain this morning as a favourable omen, reversing that of yesterday?’ ‘I never thought of it in one way or another, patron. I was in too great haste and concern lest I should keep your worship waiting.’ ‘You are very considerate! Taking the circumstances of your case into account, I am of the opinion that you have carried out this appointment with remarkable credit. Do you know why I have brought you here?’ ‘Something which needs only two pairs of ears,’ said Cestus, with a swift glance around at the deserted fields. ‘Shrewd as ever, Cestus! I mean to unfold a plan by which we may both make our fortunes. Am I to rely on your perfect faith, secrecy, and promptness as before?’ ‘Patron, you are the cleverest man in Rome, and I would not quit you to serve the greatest. Whenever you call upon me to help you I come instanter, knowing that the business will be something clever and instructive. The pleasure of serving you, therefore, has as much weight with me as the pay—it has indeed.’ ‘The fluency and readiness of your language will never leave you; it is the admirable fruit of your residence with a poet. It has already been of immense service to you; but for the present it will be sufficient for you to be brief and to the point. I wish to know if you are prepared to carry out my wishes, even though they may incur some desperate action, which, if discovered, would end most certainly in the executioner’s axe?’ ‘I should like to hear more particulars, patron—I would be pleased to do anything with a fair show of safety; but, at the same time, I have no desire to be a bull‐headed fool.’