ill
go to the 'City-House,' the public prison, and give myself up. The
ignominy will soon end. Then welcome the Styx, Hades, the never ending
night--better than this shame!"

He started forth, but Phormio's hand restrained him. "Not so fast, lad!
Thank Olympus, I'm not Lampaxo. You're too young a turbot for Charon's
fish-net. Let me think a moment."

The fishmonger stood scratching his thin hairs. Another howl from Lampaxo
decided him.

"Are you a traitor, too? Away with the wretch to prison!"

"I'm resolved," cried Phormio, striking his thigh. "Only an honest man
could get such hatred from my wife. If they've not tracked you yet,
they're not likely to find you before morning. My cousin Brasidas is
master of the _Solon_, and owes a good turn--"

Quick strides took him to a chest. He dragged forth a sleeveless sailor's
cloak of hair-cloth. To fling this over Glaucon's rent chiton took an
instant, another instant to clap on the fugitive's head a brimless red
cap.

"_Euge!_--you grow transformed. But that white face of yours is dangerous.
See!" he rubbed over the Alcmaeonid's face two handfuls of black ashes
snatched from the hearth and sprang back with a great laugh, "you're a
sailor unlading charcoal now. Zeus himself would believe it. All is
ready--"

"For prison?" asked Glaucon, clearly understanding little.

"For the sea, my lad. For Athens is no place for you to-morrow, and
Brasidas sails at dawn. Some more wine? It's a long, brisk walk."

"To the havens? You trust me? You doubt the accusation which every friend
save Hermione believes? O pure Athena--and this is possible!" Again
Glaucon's head whirled. It took more of the fiery wine to stay him up.

"Ay, boy," comforted Phormio, very gruff, "you shall walk again around
Athens with a bold, brave face, though not to-morrow, I fear. Polus trusts
his heart and not his head in voting 'guilty,' so I trust it voting
'innocent.' "

"I warn you," Glaucon spoke rapidly, "I've no claim on your friendship. If
your part in this is discovered, you know our juries."

"That I know," laughed Phormio, grimly, "for I know dear Polus. So now my
own cloak and we are off."

But Lampaxo, who had watched everything with accumulating anger, now burst
loose. She bounded to the door.

"Constables! Help! Athens is betrayed!"

She bawled that much through the lattice before her husband and Bias
dragged her back. Fortunately the street was empty.

"That I should see this! My