the name of my
informant; and really, my good son, why--why should I?' There, spread
before me on the table, so I knew he wished me to see it, was a letter
which bore the signature of Manius and gave information of a certain
council. I could not make out the name, but I was able to recall how
the great father had said to me, once, that when a man secretly puts
blame upon another, the infamy he charges shall be only half his own.
Our imperator is no fool, my friend. 'A ship will be leaving the
seventh day before the ides,' said he. '_You_ will not be able to make
it.' His meaning was clear. It could bear my warning, if not me, and
here it is. With the gods' favor, soon, also, I shall be able to say
to you, here am I. To-morrow at dawn I leave for Jerusalem."

Beneath the signature these words were added: "As soon as possible I
wish to know all and to speak my heart to you. The emperor has
withdrawn his consent to your marriage with Arria. I shall explain
everything but the purpose of the emperor, and who may understand him?
If it be due to caprice or doubt or anger he will do you justice. But
if a deeper motive is in his mind who knows what may happen?"

This letter kindled a fire in the heart of Vergilius. It burned
fiercely, so that prudence and noble feeling were driven out. In spite
of the warning of the young tribune, Manius had remained in Jerusalem.
Vergilius had delayed action, dreading to bring the wrath of Rome upon
one so young, so well born, so highly honored, and possibly so far
misled. Therefore, he had held his peace and waited patiently for more
knowledge. Now the evil heart of the assessor was laid bare, his
infamy proven. Vergilius reread the letter with flashing eyes. Then
he summoned his lecticarii and set out for the palace of the plotter.
Manius approached him, a kindly greeting on his lips.

"Liar!" Vergilius interrupted, his hand upon his sword. "Speak no word
of kindness to me!"

"What mean you, son of Varro?" the other demanded.

"That, with me, you have not even the right of an enemy. You are a
deadly serpent, born to creep and hide. Shame upon you--murderer! If
there be many like you, what--God tell me!--what shall be the fate of
Rome?"

Vergilius stepped away, and, lifting his hands, gave the other a look
of unspeakable scorn. Manius made no reply, but stood as still and
white as marble, with sword in hand.

"It was I who sat beside you that night," said the othe