h the lattice
in the door, "but sick rather. Don't detain me, _philotata_,"--Lampaxo's
skinny hand had tried to restrain. "I'll not let even a dog suffer."

"You'll be ruined by too much charity," bewailed the woman, but Bias
followed the fishmonger into the night. The moon shone down the narrow
street, falling over the stranger who half lay, half squatted by the
Hermes. When the two approached him, he tried to stagger to his feet, then
reeled, and Phormio's strong arms seized him. The man resisted feebly, and
seemed never to hear the fishmonger's friendly questions.

"I am innocent. Do not arrest me. Help me to the temple of Hephaestos,
where there's asylum for fugitives. Ah! Hermione, that I should bring you
this!"

Bias leaped back as the moonlight glanced over the face of the stranger.

"Master Glaucon, half naked and mad! _Ai!_ woe!"

"Glaucon the Alcmaeonid," echoed Phormio, in amazement, and the other still
struggled to escape.

"Do you not hear? I am innocent. I never visited the Persian spy. I never
betrayed the fleet. By what god can I swear it, that you may believe?"

Phormio was a man to recover from surprise quickly, and act swiftly and to
the purpose. He made haste to lead his unfortunate visitor inside and lay
him on his one hard couch. Scarcely was this done, however, when Lampaxo
ran up to Glaucon in mingled rage and exultation.

"Phormio doesn't know what Polus and I told Democrates, or what he told
us! So you thought to escape, you white-skinned traitor? But we've watched
you. We know how you went to the Babylonian. We know your guilt. And now
the good gods have stricken you mad and delivered you to justice." She
waved her bony fists in the prostrate man's face. "Run, Phormio! don't
stand gaping like a magpie. Run, I say--"

"Whither? For a physician?"

"To Areopagus, fool! There's where the constables have their camp. Bring
ten men with fetters. He's strong and desperate. Bias and I will wait and
guard him. If you stir, traitor,--" she was holding a heavy meat-knife at
the fugitive's throat,--"I'll slit your weasand like a chicken."

But for once in his life Phormio defied his tyrant effectively. With one
hand he tore the weapon from her clutch, the other closed her screaming
mouth.

"Are you mad yourself? Will you rouse the neighbourhood? I don't know what
you and Polus tattled about to Democrates. I don't greatly care. As for
going for constables to seize Glaucon the Fortunate--"

"F