er to-morrow at the noon hour, my
friend. I think thou canst find a way! Till then, good-night. The gods
have thee in their keeping!"

"And thee!" Nicanor responded with a grin.

Hito was absorbed into the darkness. Nicanor spat upon the ground where
he had stood.

"Rather the gods smite thee with death and ruin!" he muttered. "Now to
wait for thy lady. How well he loves her, in truth!"

He took to pacing up and down the gallery before the storerooms, for the
night air was biting cold, noiseless, a blot of shadow in the darkness.
His thoughts wandered from the black-haired slave girl to her whom they
both served; to Marius; to his own plight. How long would it be before
it pleased Marius to speak and snap the jaws of the trap upon him? Why
did he hold his hand? Or had he perhaps already spoken? He knew that if
he were to escape at all, the sooner he made the attempt, the better.
His fingers went uncertainly to the collar at his throat. He could bribe
no one to cut it for him; to do it himself would be more than difficult,
even if he could steal the tools. He paused before a door that led into
deeper blackness. At the far end of that passage was another door
through which he must enter, where many another had entered before him,
and where he had seen too much of what went on within to expect less for
himself than had fallen to the lot of these. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Even a trapped rat may fight," he muttered, and turned to continue his
pacing. Then it was that he saw a light coming down the gallery, dancing
upon the wall; and a group of three approaching, revealed by a torch in
the hands of one. Wary as a buck which scents danger on every breeze, he
drew back into the space between two pillars to wait and watch. And he
saw that of the three, the middle one was Marcus, held fast and
struggling, and whimpering like a dog dragged to a beating.

In the first moment, Nicanor did not understand. Then it grew upon him
that this had something to do with him, and it might be well to find out
what. The three passed him and entered at that door before which Nicanor
had paused.

"So--they take him to the torture!" Nicanor muttered. "I think that I
shall see the end of this."

Lithe and noiseless as a cat he went after the three down the passage,
keeping well out of range of the flaring torch.

VI

But when he reached the door at the end of the passage, it was closed,
and he could only stand outside and listen. A