t cry out twice. He had no breath. Demetrius tore him off of his
feet and shook him in mid-air.

"Daphne! Daphne!" thundered the awful pirate; "speak--or by the
infernal gods--"

"Put him down!" shouted Caesar and Drusus. They were almost appealing
to an unchained lion roaring over his prey, Drusus caught one of
Demetrius's arms, and with all his strength tore it from its grasp.

"The man cannot say a word! you are choking him," he cried in the
pirate's ear.

Demetrius relaxed his mighty grip. Pratinas, for so we still call him,
leaned back against one of the soldiers, panting and gasping. Drusus
took his assailant by the arm, and led him back to a seat. Caesar sat
waiting until the prisoner could speak.

"Pratinas," said the Imperator, sternly, "as you hope for an easy
death or a hard one, tell this man the truth about his daughter."

Pratinas drew himself together by a mighty effort. For an instant he
was the former easy, elegant, versatile Hellene. When he answered it
was with the ring of triumph and defiance.

"Imperator, it would be easy to tell a lie, for there is no means of
proof at hand. This man," with a derisive glance at his enemy, "says
that I know something about his daughter. Doubtless, though, since he
has pursued for recent years so noble an avocation, it were more
grateful if he thanked me for caring for the deserted girl. Well, I
kept her until she was sufficiently old, and then--for I was at the
time quite poor--disposed of her to a dealer at Antioch, who was
planning to take a slave caravan to Seleucia. My good friend probably
will find his daughter in some Parthian harem, unless--"

Cornelia had arisen and was whispering to Drusus; the latter turned
and held the raging pirate in his seat. Pratinas had made of every
word a venomed arrow, and each and all struck home. The workings of
Demetrius's face were frightful, the beads of agony stood on his
brows,--doubtless he had always feared nothing less,--the certainty
was awful. Cornelia looked upon him half-anxious, yet serene and
smiling. Drusus, too, seemed composed and expectant. The Imperator
gazed straight before him, his eyes searching the prisoner through and
through, and under the glance the Greek again showed signs of fear and
nervousness.

The curtain at the opposite end of the hall rustled, Cornelia rose and
walked to the doorway, and returned, leading Artemisia by the hand.
The girl was dressed in a pure white chiton; her thick ha