“Here!” he said proudly, “with a twist of your thumb you have them all as safe as hares in a trap.” The little band of Christians, who were thus overtaken by their fate, were in the act of kneeling for a common prayer, when heavy steps and the rattle of arms were suddenly heard in the passage. All started in terror to their feet. A few instantly dropped on their knees again, wringing their hands. The women and girls clung to each other in despair. Some of the younger men, and with them Thrax Barbatus, assumed an air of sullen determination, which threatened desperate resistance on their part, while others stood motionless and unmoved in dull resignation. Among them there were a few faces that beamed with the transport of sacred ecstasy, and Quintus and Calenus were perhaps the only two, who betrayed no sign in their faces of what was passing in their minds. Before it was possible even to think of flight, the old centurion was standing in the door-way, his drawn sword gleaming ominously: behind him shone the helmets of his men-at-arms. A loud cry rose from the congregation; Thrax Barbatus flung off his cloak, and drew the dagger he had concealed under it. “Whoever tries to escape is a dead man!” shouted the soldier, giving a sign to his men. In a minute they were ranged round the hall to the right and left. Quintus, who was likewise armed, grasped his sword-hilt convulsively. He glanced round at the little congregation; the fight would be too unequal, simply ridiculous, but he felt he must attempt it. His sword flashed from its sheath; but at that instant Antinous sprang upon him from one side and, with the strength of desperation, clutched his right arm. Before Quintus could shake him off he was surrounded by soldiers, his weapon was wrenched from him, and six or eight sinewy hands held his arms and shoulders with the grip of a vice. The centurion came up to him with his sword point downwards. “My lord,” he said, “you see--resistance is hopeless.” “What do you want of us?” asked Quintus, with a defiant sparkle in his glance. “My lord, you know.” “And do you know me?” “Who that lives in Rome, can fail to know the son of Titus Claudius?” “Well--and yet you seize me as if I were a thief?” “I am doing my duty--I am seeking the Nazarenes.” “And you have found them!” exclaimed Antinous, still breathless from his exertions. “Who is this boy?” asked Quintus, with a feeling of unutterable loathing. "I? I am Antinous, Stephanus' boy," he answered audaciously. "I bring you my master’s greetings, and"--he added in a whisper--“those of your imperial neighbor, the lady of Baiae....” “Silence!” said the centurion, sternly. “You have done your part! Take yourself off--instantly.” Quintus breathed hard and deep. He understood only too well all that the impudent young villain’s words conveyed. The captain did not give him much time to indulge his feelings.