with flashing eyes, and as if he wished
the answer to be in the affirmative; but the prefect had hastened to
the door with drawn sword. Before he reached it, it was thrown open, and
Julius Asper, the legate, burst into the tablinum as if beside himself,
crying: "Cursed den of murderers! An attempt on your life, great Caesar;
but we have him fast!"

"Assassination!" interrupted Caracalla with furious joy. "That was the
only thing left undone! Bring the murderer! But first"--and he addressed
himself to Aristides--"close the city gates and the harbor. Not a man,
not a ship must be let through without being searched. The vessels that
have weighed anchor since daybreak must be followed and brought back.
Mounted Numidians under efficient officers must scour the high-roads as
soon as the gate-keepers have been examined. Every house must be open to
your men, every temple, every refuge. Seize Heron, the gem-cutter,
his daughter, and his two sons. Also--Diodoros is the young villain's
name?--him, his parents, and everybody connected with them! The
physician knows where they are to be found. Alive, do you hear?--not
dead! I will have them alive! I give you till midnight! Your head, if
you let the jade and her brothers escape!"

With drooping head the unhappy officer departed. On the threshold he was
met by Martialis, the praetorian centurion. After him, his hands bound
behind his back, walked the criminal. A deep flush overspread his
handsome face, his eyes glowed under the too lofty brow with the fierce
light of fever, his waving locks stood out in wild confusion round his
head, while the finely cut upper lip with its disdainful curl seemed the
very seat of scorn and bitterest contempt. Every feature wore that same
expression, and not a trace of fear or regret. But his panting breast
betrayed to the physician's first glance that they had here to deal with
a sick man in raging fever.

They had already torn off his mantle and discovered beneath its folds
the sharp-edged butcher's knife which plainly betrayed his intentions.
He had penetrated to the first antechamber when a soldier of the
Germanic body-guard laid hold on him. Martialis had him by the girdle
now, and the emperor looked sharply and mistrustfully at the praetorian,
as he asked if it were he who had captured the assassin.

The centurion replied that he had not. Ingiomarus, the German, had
noticed the knife; he, Martialis, was here only in right of his
privilege as