s if winding into Hades.'

'On the contrary, it does but conduct to the upper rooms,' answered
Arbaces, carelessly: 'it is to the right that we steer to our bourn.'

The hall, like many in the more habitable regions of Pompeii, branched
off at the extremity into two wings or passages; the length of which,
not really great, was to the eye considerably exaggerated by the sudden
gloom against which the lamp so faintly struggled. To the right of
these alae, the two comrades now directed their steps.

'The gay Glaucus will be lodged to-morrow in apartments not much drier,
and far less spacious than this,' said Calenus, as they passed by the
very spot where, completely wrapped in the shadow of the broad,
projecting buttress, cowered the Thessalian.

'Ay, but then he will have dry room, and ample enough, in the arena on
the following day. And to think,' continued Arbaces, slowly, and very
deliberately--'to think that a word of thine could save him, and consign
Arbaces to his doom!'

'That word shall never be spoken,' said Calenus.

'Right, my Calenus! it never shall,' returned Arbaces, familiarly
leaning his arm on the priest's shoulder: 'and now, halt--we are at the
door.'

The light trembled against a small door deep set in the wall, and
guarded strongly by many plates and bindings of iron, that intersected
the rough and dark wood. From his girdle Arbaces now drew a small ring,
holding three or four short but strong keys. Oh, how beat the griping
heart of Calenus, as he heard the rusty wards growl, as if resenting the
admission to the treasures they guarded!

'Enter, my friend,' said Arbaces, 'while I hold the lamp on high, that
thou mayst glut thine eyes on the yellow heaps.'

The impatient Calenus did not wait to be twice invited; he hastened
towards the aperture.

Scarce had he crossed the threshold, when the strong hand of Arbaces
plunged him forwards.

'The word shall never be spoken!' said the Egyptian, with a loud
exultant laugh, and closed the door upon the priest.

Calenus had been precipitated down several steps, but not feeling at the
moment the pain of his fall, he sprung up again to the door, and beating
at it fiercely with his clenched fist, he cried aloud in what seemed
more a beast's howl than a human voice, so keen was his agony and
despair: 'Oh, release me, release me, and I will ask no gold!'

The words but imperfectly penetrated the massive door, and Arbaces again
laughed. Then, stamp