er him released."

"Yes, order him released," said Pertinax.

But Marcia's strained lips flickered with the vestige of a smile.

"A determined man!" she said, her eyes on Pertinax. "By morning a
determined man might give his own commands. Sextus is safe where he is.
Let him stay there until you have power to release him! Go and wait in
the outer room, Narcissus!"

Narcissus had no alternative. Though he could sense the climax with the
marrow of his bones, he did not dare to disobey. He might have rushed
into the emperor's bedroom to denounce the whole conspiracy and offer
himself as bodyguard in the emergency. That might have won Commodus'
gratitude; it might have opened up a way for liberating Sextus. But
there was irresolution in the air. And besides, he knew that Sextus
would reckon it a treason to himself to be made beholden for his life to
Commodus, nor would he forgive betrayal of his friends, Pertinax, and
Marcia and Galen.

So Narcissus, who cared only for Sextus, reckoning no other man on earth
his friend, went and sat beyond the curtains in the smaller, outer room,
straining his ears to catch the conversation and wondering what tragedy
the gods might have in store. As gladiator his philosophy was mixed of
fatalism, cynical irreverence, a semi-military instinct of obedience,
short-sightedness and self-will. He reckoned Marcia no better than
himself because she, too, was born in slavery--and Pertinax not vastly
better than himself because he was a charcoal-burner's son. But it did
not enter his head just then that he might be capable of making history.

Marcia well understood him. Knowing that he could not escape to confer
with the slaves in the corridor, because the door leading to the
corridor from the smaller anteroom was locked, she was at no pains to
prevent his overhearing anything. He could be dealt with either way, at
her convenience; a reward might seal his lips, or she could have him
killed the instant that his usefulness was ended, which was possibly not
yet.

"Sextus," she said, "must be dealt with. Pertinax, you are the one who
should attend to it. As governor of Rome you can--"

"He is thoroughly faithful," said Pertinax. "He has been very useful to
us."

"Yes," said Marcia, "but usefulness has limits. Time comes when wine
jars need resealing, else the wine spills. Galen, go in and see the
emperor."

Galen shook his head.

"He is a sick man," said Marcia. "I think