‘To‐morrow most surely!’ he replied; and, wafting another kiss with his hand, Sejanus left the room and hastened away. Entering the neighbouring Subura, he sought a by‐court out of the stream of the bustling, main thoroughfares. It was narrow, tortuous, dirty, and unsavoury. But little of the sky could be seen above; and the denizens of the place were slovenly, dirty, half‐dressed men and women, slouching along, or lounging in knots. Any intruder of respectable appearance into their haunt, encountered such a cross‐fire of baleful glances from these evil‐eyed individuals, whose lowering visages were plainly stamped with night and enormity, that, being of timid nature, the visitor might well breathe more freely, and be thankful when he reached a public place once more. The Prefect, however, was of different mould, and gave no heed to the scrutiny of the night‐vultures whom he passed. He paused before a door, at which he knocked. There was a considerable delay, and only, when he had thundered two or three times more, was a shuffling step heard within. The bolts were drawn and the door opened slowly a couple of inches, just sufficient to afford a glimpse of elf‐locks, a withered skin, and a pair of watery, glistening eyes. ‘What want ye?’ asked a harsh, but yet a woman’s voice. ‘Thy master, Tigellinus. Open quickly!’ said Sejanus roughly. ‘Nay, you must wait a little!’ answered the hideous doorkeeper, proceeding to shut him out. But the Prefect’s reply was a vigorous push, which nearly overturned her, and brought him inside the passage, which was strongly pervaded by the fumes of cooking. The old hag, staggering nearly to the ground, recovered herself and rushed at him, giving vent to an angry scream, and showing a formidable extension of her bony claws. ‘Away, you filthy harpy. Hideous crow!’ shouted Sejanus, repulsing her with another vigorous shove,—‘away and tell Tigellinus that Lars Porsena awaits him from Etruria.’ His imperious, as well as vigorous, manner cowed the old woman, and she shuffled away into the gloom of the interior, grumbling and muttering her suspicions. For the few moments which intervened Sejanus paced the obscure passage, inhaling the odours of the kitchen, to the disgust of his refined senses, and listening to the distant bursts of chatter and laughter, of what seemed to be female voices. A man made his appearance at length, and greeted him with deference. He was young, and had swarthy and handsome features. ‘I have had the misfortune to disturb you at your dinner, worthy Tigellinus,’ quoth the Prefect; ‘deny it not, for I can smell it palpably. I also hear the merry voices of your happy family, from which I have dragged you. I apologise!’ ‘Do not, P—I mean Porsena,’ replied Tigellinus, ‘fifty dinners and families are not to be compared to the privilege of your visit. What can I do for you, noble sir?’