owled with animal fear.

"What are you taking now--a goblet?"

"Wait." Themistocles was indeed holding a silver cup and flask. "Have I
not said you should escape this captivity--to-night?"

"Be quick, then, the night wanes fast."

The admiral strode over beside the creature who plucked at his hem.

"Give ear again, Democrates. Your crimes against Athens and Hellas were
wrought under sore temptation. The money you stole from the public chest,
if not returned already, I will myself make good. So much is forgiven."

"You are a true friend, Themistocles." The prisoner's voice was husky, but
the admiral's eyes flashed like flint-stones struck by the steel.

"Friend!" he echoed. "Yes, by Zeus Orcios, guardian of oaths and
friendship, you had a friend. Where is he now?"

Democrates lay on the turf floor of the tent, not even groaning.

"You had a friend,"--the admiral's intensity was awful. "You blasted his
good name, you sought his life, you sought his wife, you broke every bond,
human or divine, to destroy him. At last, to silence conscience' sting,
you thought you did a deed of mercy in sending him in captivity to a death
in life. Fool! Nemesis is not mocked. Glaucon has lain at death's door. He
has saved Hellas, but at a price. The surgeons say he will live, but that
his foot is crippled. Glaucon can never run again. You have brought him
misery. You have brought anguish to Hermione, the noblest woman in Hellas,
whom you--ah! mockery--professed to hold in love! You have done worse than
murder. Yet I have promised you shall escape this night. Rise up."

Democrates staggered to his feet clumsily, only half knowing what he did.
Themistocles was extending the silver cup. "Escape. Drink!"

"What is this cup?" The prisoner had turned gray.

"Hemlock, coward! Did you not bid Glaucon to take his life that night in
Colonus? The death you proffered him in his innocency I proffer you now in
your guilt. Drink!"

"You have called me friend. You have said you loved me. I dare not die. A
little time! Pity! Mercy! What god can I invoke?"

"None. Cerberus himself would not hearken to such as you. Drink."

"Pity, by our old-time friendship!"

The admiral's tall form straightened.

"Themistocles the Friend is dead; Themistocles the Just is here,--drink."

"But you promised escape?" The prisoner's whisper was just audible.

"Ay, truly, from the court-martial before the roaring camp in the morning,
the unmasking of all your