he crowded it against the wall. He forced it to turn at bay. No eye
was quick enough to see exactly how he killed it, save that he struck
when the leopard sprang. The next thing that anybody actually saw, he
had the writhing creature on the spear, in air, like a legion's
standard.

Then the madness surged into his brain.

"So I rule Rome!" he exclaimed, and threw the leopard at the gladiators'
feet. "Because I pity Rome that could not find another Paulus! I
strike first, before they strike me!"

They flattered him--fawned on him, but he was much too genuinely mad for
flattery to take effect. "If you were worth a barrelful of rats I'd
have a senate that might save me trouble! Then like Tiberius I might
remain away from Rome and live more like a god. I've more than half a
mind to let my dummy stay here to amuse you wastrels!" He glanced up at
the box, where his substitute lolled and yawned and smiled. "All you
degenerates need is some one you can rub yourselves against like fat
cats mewing for a bowl of milk! By Hercules, now I'll show you
something that will make your blood leap. Bring out the new Spanish
team."

With an imperious gesture he sent senators and gladiators to scatter
themselves all over the arena. Not yet satisfied, he ordered all the
guards fetched from the tunnel and arranged them in a similar disorder,
so that finally no stretch of fifty yards was left without a man
obstructing it. There was no spina down the midst, nor anything except
the surrounding wall to suggest to a team of horses which the course
might be.