Vaguely wondering whether Caesar's latest whim was to drive his court from him, Marsyas got into his own highly-painted shell and told his oarsman to take him across to Baiae. As he sat at the tiller and moodily watched the Italian night come up over the sea, the capes, the hill-slopes and finally cover the somber head of the unsuspected Vesuvius, he was afraid that his long ignored Essenic rigor would assert itself. He was ashamed of himself, and for the moment looked upon the life he had led in Rome with revulsion. But he put off his self-examination with a kind of terror. There was yet much that was harsh and unlawful to be done, and he dared not hold off his hand. Lydia's life and good name, the avenging of Stephen, Agrippa's life and Cypros' happiness were weighed against Classicus and his own soul in the other balance. He could not hesitate now. When he set foot in opulent Baiae the night had fallen and with his return to the city, which he knew sheltered Agrippa's most active enemy at that hour, all his energies turned toward the purpose that had originally brought him to Misenum. He believed that if Classicus had insinuated himself into young Tiberius' favor, doubtless the prince's hospitality had been extended to him. He turned his steps toward the range of villas built between Baiae and Puteoli, overlooking the bay. He had in mind the method of his last resort, and he went as one goes when desperation carries him forward--swiftly and relentlessly. But, crossing the town by the water-front, he met a handful of slaves bearing baggage toward the wharves. With his old Essenic thoroughness he halted to examine them to make sure that Classicus had not outstripped him finally. By their particularly fine physique and diverse nationality Marsyas knew them to be costly slaves of the familia of no small patrician. He heard the ramble of chariot-wheels on the lava-paved streets; the master was following. As the vehicle passed under a lamp a few paces away, Marsyas distinguished the occupants as Classicus and the young Tiberius. He felt a chill creep over his heart; the hour had come. He moved after the slaves toward the wharf.