red safety and continued favour.

"I have come," he continued, "that I might mingle my tears with those
of my father who mourns the death of a son."

Marcia stood amazed. Had they not been told how this man had himself
ordered the execution of Perolla? How, then, could even a Carthaginian
show such effrontery! Still, it was necessary to think quickly, and
her woman's wit told her that, in any event, Calavius' best chance of
safety was to seem to accept the visit in the spirit which cloaked it.
So thinking, she led the visitors into the peristyle,--Hannibal,
Iddilcar, and some twenty soldiers who followed as if by previous
orders; while the rest mounted guard before the vestibule. Murmuring
some word of apology, she hurried back through the garden to the
tradesmen's door.

It was still closed and barred, facts which, together with the rumble
of the crowd without, showed that Calavius' plan of escape had proven
impracticable. Then she began a careful search, becoming more
agitated, with each moment, about the difficulty of explaining the
delay. At last she found him, hidden away under a couch in one of the
slaves' apartments, so senseless with terror that several minutes
passed, before he could grasp her tale of Hannibal's presence, and of
the chance of safety it offered. When, however, he understood that
there was yet room for diplomacy,--that the visitors were not mere
executioners with orders to obey,--he drew himself out from his
hiding-place, alert and active. The need of haste, in view of the time
already lost, was apparent; but, nevertheless, he paused in the garden
to wallow a moment in the mould and plunge his hands into its depth.

Marcia saw with disgust, but she led on until they reached the
peristyle; when, slipping aside into one of the cells, she watched the
playing of the game.

Calavius paused a moment at the entrance. Then, groaning deeply to
attract attention, he shambled forward, and, throwing himself at full
length before Hannibal, seized the hem of his robe and pressed it
eagerly to his lips.

"Ah, my master!" he cried. "Slay me, slay me at once or with tortures.
Surely that man is not fit to live whose loins have engendered such a
monster of wickedness. Only by death can I hope to expiate my offence
and retain the favour of the gods."

"Rise, my father," said the captain-general, and to Marcia's ears his
voice rang true with sympathy. He reached out his hand to help
Calavius. "