ers. But at last she
had reached her destination, and, pale and weary, placed the letter in
Agias's hands. The young Greek read and grew grave. Even better than
Fabia he understood how reckless a profligate Publius Gabinius might
be, and how opportune was the night for carrying out any deed of
darkness.

[159] Wine-mixing bowl.

"Brave girl!" he said, commending Erigone for persevering on her
errand. "But how long ago did you leave your mistress?"

"It was the second hour of the night[160] when I started," she
replied.

[160] The Romans divided the night into 12 hours (from sunrise to
sunset); thus the length of the hour varied with the seasons: but
at the time here mentioned the "second hour" was about 8 P.M. The
water-clocks could show only regular, not solar, time.

Agias glanced at the water-clock.

"By Zeus!" he cried, "it is now the fourth hour! You have been two
hours on the way! Immortal gods! What's to be done? Look here,
Demetrius!"

And he thrust the letter before his cousin, and explained its meaning
as rapidly as he could.

Demetrius puffed hard through his nostrils.

"_Mu! mu!_ This is bad business. If there were time I could have
twenty as stout men as ever swung sword up from the yacht and on guard
to die for any relative or friend of Sextus Drusus. But there's not a
moment to lose. Have you any arms?"

Agias dragged two short swords out of a chest. Demetrius was already
throwing on his cloak.

"Those are poor, light weapons," commented the pirate. "I want my
heavy cutlass. But take what the gods send;" and he girded one about
him. "At least, they will cut a throat. Do you know how to wield
them?"

"After a fashion," replied Agias, modestly, making haste to clasp his
paenula.

Leaving Erigone to be cared for by the slaves and sent home the next
morning, the two Greeks hastened from the house. Agias could hardly
keep pace with his cousin's tremendous stride. Demetrius was like a
war-horse, which snuffs the battle from afar and tugs at the rein to
join in the fray. They plunged through the dark streets. Once a man
sprang out from a doorway before them with a cudgel. He may have been
a footpad; but Demetrius, without pausing in his haste, smote the
fellow between the eyes with a terrible fist, and the wretched
creature dropped without a groan. Demetrius seemed guided to the Forum
and Via Sacra as if by an inborn instinct. Agias almost ran at his
heels.

"How many may this Dum