in
the arm-chair propped with pillows. That he had awaited Hiram eagerly,
betrayed itself by the promptness with which he cut short the inevitable
salaam.

"Well, my dear rascal, have you found him?"

"May it please your Excellency to hearken to even the least of your
slaves?"

"Do you hear, fox?--have you found him?"

"My Lord shall judge for himself."

"Cerberus eat you, fellow,--though you'd be a poisonous mouthful,--tell your
story in as few words as possible. I _know_ that he is lurking about
Troezene."

"Compassion, your Lordship, compassion,"--Hiram seemed washing his hands in
oil, they waved so soothingly--"if your Benignity will grant it, I have a
very worthy woman here who, I think, can tell a story that will be
interesting."

"In with her, then."

The person Hiram escorted into the room proved to be no more nor less than
Lampaxo. Two years had not removed the wrinkles from her cheek, the
sharpness from her nose, the rasping from her tongue. At sight of her
Democrates half rose from his seat and held out his hand affably, the
demagogue's instinct uppermost.

"Ah! my good dame, whom do I recognize? Are you not the wife of our
excellent fishmonger, Phormio? A truly sterling man, and how, pray, is
your good husband?"

"Poorly, poorly, _kyrie_." Lampaxo looked down and fumbled her dirty
chiton. Such condescension on the part of a magnate barely less than
Themistocles or Aristeides was overpowering.

"Poorly? I grieve to learn it. I was informed that he was comfortably
settled here until it was safe to return to Attica, and had even opened a
prosperous stall in the market-place."

"Of course, _kyrie_; and the trade, considering the times, is not so
bad--Athena be praised--and he's not sick in body. It's worse, far worse. I
was even on the point of going to your Lordship to state my misgivings,
when your good friend, the Phoenician, fell into my company, and I found he
was searching for the very thing I wanted to reveal."

"Ah!" Democrates leaned forward and battled against his impatience,--"and
what is the matter wherein I can be of service to so deserving a citizen
as your husband?"

"I fear me,"--Lampaxo put her apron dutifully to her face and began to
sniff,--"your Excellency won't call him 'deserving' any more. Hellas knows
your Excellency is patriotism itself. The fact is Phormio has 'Medized.' "

"Medized!" The orator started as became an actor. "Gods and goddesses!
what trust is in men i