“And for thee also, lady. It is said that guards are observing thy house and that, therefore, thy slaves cannot venture hither. Therefore, so says Tarsius, his master, the wool‐merchant, Julius Largus, hath sent his litters and porters.” “But his house will be visited!” “The bearers have instructions as to what shall be done.” “This is strange,” said Quincta. “I did not suppose that Largus Litomarus would have shown such consideration. We are not acquainted—indeed we belong to different classes——” “Yet are ye one in Christ,” said the deacon. “Call in Tarsius, he shall explain the matter. But let him be speedy or the rabble will be on us.” “They are at the head of the street,” said the slave, “and visit the door of Terentius Cominius.” “He believes.” “And he has set out a figure of the Good Shepherd before his door with a lamp. The crowd regards it as a Mercury and has cheered and gone on to the next door.” Tarsius, thoroughly recovered from his intoxication, was now admitted. He looked none in the face, and stumbled through his tale. Julius Largus Litomarus had bidden him offer his litters; there were curtains closing them, and his servants would convey the ladies to a place of security. Quincta was too frightened, too impatient to be off, to question the man, nor was the deacon more nice in inquiry, for he also was in a condition of nervous unrest. The shouts of the mob could be heard. “I do not wholly trust this man,” said Baudillas. “He was expelled for misconduct. Yet, what can we do? Time presses! Hark!—in a brief space the rabble will be here. Next house is a common lodging and will not detain them. Would that Marcianus had remained. He could have advised us. Madam, act as you think best.” “The mob is on the move,” said Pedo. “They have been satisfied at the house of Dulcius Liber, and now Septimus Philadelphus is bringing out half‐a‐dozen gods. Master—there is not a moment to be lost.” “Let us fly—quick!” gasped Quincta. She plucked her daughter’s arm, and fairly dragged her along the passage out of the house. In the street they saw a flare. The rabble, held in control by some directing spirit, was furnished with torches. It was roaring outside a house, impatient because no statue was produced, and proceeded to throw stones and batter the door. “That house is empty,” whispered Pedo. “The master was bankrupt and everything sold. There is not a person in it.” Quincta mounted the _lectica_ or palanquin that was offered, without looking whether her daughter were safe, and allowed the bearers, nay urged them, to start at a trot. Tarsius remained behind. He handed Perpetua into the second closed litter, then gave the word, and ran beside it, holding the curtains together with one hand. Baudillas trembling for himself was now left alone. CHAPTER XII REUS