ad effectually blurred whatever judgment the officer may
have had, and his one thought was to kill or capture his quarry.

So they came together, Sergius swerving his Cappadocian as they met.
The officer struck blindly, but the good lord Bacchus put out his hand
and turned the blow aside. Then, as they parted, a strange thing
happened. Marcia had wondered dimly why Sergius struggled with the
long, girdleless garment of Iddilcar, tearing it off as he rode. Now,
when the two horses sprang apart, she saw that he had thrown it
dexterously over the Carthaginian, blinding his blow and tangling him
in its heavy folds.

Prompt to respond to knee and rein, the Cappadocian wheeled, almost as
soon as he ran clear, but the African thundered on, while its rider
cursed in blind terror and tried to check his horse and to free his
face and sword-arm. A moment, and he had succeeded, but he succeeded
too late. The Roman was at his back, and Marcia saw the long dagger
rise and fall in a swift thrust. She could not see how the point took
its victim just at the nape; but she saw him pitch forward like an ox
under the axe.

Almost before she could grasp what had happened, Sergius was beside the
fallen man, had resumed the priest's tunic, red with new blood stains,
and was on his horse again. His brow lay in deep lines as he rode
toward her.

"Come," he said. "The gods favouring us, we must pass their camp
before the rest come up. Grant that those may linger by the corpse,
and that we meet no check."

Again they were galloping toward the lines that lay about Casilinum.
All had happened so quickly that even now they could scarcely see the
plume in the distant dust cloud that told where the pursuers straggled
on. They had turned into the new side-road without meeting a man.
Then a small foraging party halted them, and Sergius showed the seal
and spoke in Gallic to its Numidian leader. A little farther on was
stationed another band, and here the delay was longer ere his halting
Punic convinced the Spanish piquet, and they again rode forward
unsuspected. All had bowed low to the horse and the palm tree, and no
one dared question what weighty mission urged on the man in the torn
and blood-stained tunic and the slender youth, his companion.

Now they were back again upon the pavement of the Appian; the last line
was passed, and the beleaguered town with its stout-hearted garrison
lay well behind. Perhaps that sudden uproar told