The news that a merchant of Syracuse had been arrested soon spread through the city. Antipholus, who had just arrived after a long journey, was warned by a friendly merchant, who, paying him a large sum of money which he had in keeping for him, counselled Antipholus not to let it be known he came from Syracuse. Antipholus despatched his servant Dromio with the money back to the inn--the “Centaur”--where they were lodging, saying he would return there in an hour to dinner. In the meantime he intended to walk about and view the city, lamenting the while that he had not yet found the lost mother and brother of whom he was in search. Much to the surprise of Antipholus, he presently saw a man approaching whom he took to be his servant Dromio. As a matter of fact, it was his servant’s twin brother, who, for his part, mistook Antipholus for his own master. “What now? How chances it you are returned so soon?” demanded Antipholus of Syracuse. “Returned so soon? Rather approached too late,” retorted Dromio of Ephesus. “The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit, the clock hath struck twelve----” And he went on to say that his mistress was very angry because the dinner was getting cold, and his master had not returned. “Stop, sir!” said Antipholus, checking his rapid flow of words. “Tell me this, I pray: where have you left the money I gave you?” “O--sixpence that I had on Wednesday last to pay the saddler for my mistress’s crupper? The saddler had it, sir; I did not keep it.” “I am not in a sportive humour now,” said Antipholus sternly, for he knew that Dromio was a merry fellow, who loved a jest. “Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? We being strangers here, how dare you trust so great a charge out of your own custody?” But Dromio persisted that Antipholus had given him no money, and kept on begging him to come home to his wife, who was waiting dinner for him at the Phœnix. Antipholus, at last quite losing his temper at what he imagined was his servant’s impertinence, fell on him and began to beat him, whereupon Dromio took to his heels and disappeared. “Upon my life,” thought Antipholus, “the villain has been over-reached of all my money. They say this town is full of trickery--such as simple jugglers who deceive the eye, sorcerers and witches, disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, and many such-like sinners. If it prove so, I will the sooner be gone. I’ll go to the Centaur to seek this slave. I greatly fear my money is not safe.” Adriana, meanwhile, was greatly annoyed with her husband for not returning, and it was useless for her sister Luciana to counsel patience. When Dromio came back, and instead of bringing his master reported his strange behaviour, Adriana became more incensed than ever. “Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home,” she commanded angrily. “Go back again, and be new beaten home?” said poor Dromio. “For heaven’s sake, send some other messenger.”