Sextus crawled among the oleanders. Presently Norbanus came, hurrying
out of gloom, accompanied by Cadmus, the slave who had brought from
Antioch the letter that came from Rome. They were dragging a body
between them. They laid it down exactly where Sextus had fallen from
the horse. There was a sickening thwack as Cadmus made the face
unrecognizable. Then came the lanky, hurrying figure of Pertinax
leading a group of people, Cornificia among them--Galen last.

Sextus lay still until all their backs were toward him. Then he crept
out of the oleanders and walked along the river-bank in no haste,
masking his face with a fold of his toga. He chose a path that wound
amid the shrubbery, where marble satyrs grinned in colored lantern
light. He had to avoid couples here and there. A woman followed him,
laying a hand on his arm; he struck her, and she ran off, screaming for
her bully.

Presently he reached the winding track that led toward the high-road,
with the gloom of cypresses on either hand and, beyond that, the glow of
the lights in the caterers' booths. He was as safe now as if he were
fifty miles away; none noticed him except the beggars at the bridges,
who exposed maimed limbs and whined for charity. A leper, banking on
his only stock in trade--the dread men had of his affliction--cursed
him.

"You waste breath," said Sextus and passed on. He was smiling to
himself--sardonically. "Lepers live by threats--" he thought.

No more than any leper now could he expect protection from society
beyond what he could force society to yield. He had no name, for he was