Among the spectators was a gladiator; he whose especial task it was to cut the throats of the conquered victims on the arena; he looked eagerly and curiously at the wound for a moment, and then said— "A back stroke from behind—a strong hand, and a broadbacked knife—the man has been slain by a gladiator, or one who knows the gladiator’s trick!" "The man," said the Consul calmly, "has been killed by an acquaintance, a friend, or a familiar customer; he had not even risen from his seat to speak with him; and see, the burnisher is yet grasped in his hand, with which he was at work. Ha!" he exclaimed, as his lictors entered, panting and tired by their fruitless chase, "could you not overtake him?" "We never saw him any more, my consul," replied both men in one breath. "Let his head down, my friend," said Cicero, turning, much disappointed as it seemed, to Furbo, "let it lie, as it was when we found it; clear the shop, lictors; take the names of the witnesses; one of you keep watch at the door, until you are relieved; lock it and give the key to the prætor, when he shall arrive; the other, go straightway, and summon Cornelius Lentulus; he is the prætor for this ward. Go to your homes, my friends, and make no tumult in the streets, I pray you. This shall be looked to and avenged; your Consul watches over you!" "Live! live the Consul! the good Consul, the man of the people!" shouted the crowd, as they dispersed quietly to their homes. "Arvina, come with me. To whom told you, that you had found, and Volero sold, this dagger?" he asked very sternly. "To no one, Cicero. Marcus Aurelius Victor, and Aristius Fuscus were with me, when he recognized it for his work?" "No one else?" "No one, save our slaves, and they," he added in a breath, "could not have heard what passed." "Hath no one else seen it?" "As I was stripping for the contests on the Campus, Catiline saw it in my girdle, and admired its fabric." "Catiline!" "Ay! Consul?" "And you told _him_ that Volero had made it?" "Consul, no!" But, with the word, he turned as white as marble. Had it been daylight, his face had betrayed him; as it was, Cicero observed that his voice trembled. "Catiline is the man!" he said solemnly, "the man who slew Medon yesternight, who has slain Volero now. Catiline is the man; but this craves wary walking. Young man, young man, beware! methinks you are on the verge of great danger. Get thee home to thy bed; and again I say, Beware!" CHAPTER VIII. THE TRUE LOVE. Dear, my Lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. JULIUS CÆSAR.