ed years later the workmen, excavating the ruins,
discovered his body at the base of yonder wall. Such was the fate of the
noble Tullus Agrippa, citizen of Rome, and once the owner of this
house."

Before I could reply or ask how he had become familiar with these
details, he had made his way outside and was in the road once more. I
followed him to the Street of Fortune, passed the House of the Fawn, the
Baths, and the Villa of Glaucus. Of each he had some story to tell--some
anecdote to relate. From the graphic way in which he described
everything, the names and characters he introduced, I might have been
excused had I even believed that he had known the city in its prime and
been present on the day of its destruction. I said as much to him, but
he only shook his head.

"Think what you please," he said. "If I were to tell you the truth you
would not believe me. For that reason I prefer that you should credit me
with the possession of an exceedingly vivid imagination. If I have
succeeded in making the last hour pass pleasantly, I am amply rewarded.
But it grows late; the guards are coming in search of us; let us return
to the gate."

Accordingly, we made our way back to the Porta Marina, and down the path
toward the entrance to the ruins. My companion was evidently well known
to the officials, for they treated him with obsequious respect, bowing
before him and inquiring if he had seen certain new excavations, as if
the success of the latter depended entirely on his good opinion of them.
In the road outside a carriage was standing, to which was attached a
magnificent pair of black horses. A coachman, dressed in a neat but
unpretentious black livery, sat upon the box, while a footman stood
beside the carriage door. The whole turn-out was in excellent taste, and
would have made a creditable appearance in the Bois de Boulogne or Hyde
Park. Into this elegant equipage Pharos invited me to step, and as soon
as I had seated myself he took his place beside me. Hot though the night
was, a heavy fur rug was wrapped round his knees, and when this had been
done he laid himself back upon the cushions with a sigh of relief, as if
the exertion of the afternoon had been too much for him.

"So much for Pompeii," he said, as the horses sprang forward. "Now for
Naples and the most beautiful creature it contains at present, my ward,
the Fraeulein Valerie de Vocsqal."

CHAPTER VII.

If any one had told me on the night that I fi