"Where are you leading me?" asked Ahenobarbus, a second time, after
all his efforts to communicate with the usually fluent Greek met with
only monosyllables.

"To the _lanista_[61] Dumnorix," replied Pratinas, quickening an
already rapid pace.

[61] Keeper of a school of gladiators.

"And his barracks are--?"

"By the river, near the Mulvian bridge."

At length a pile of low square buildings was barely visible in the
haze. It was close to the Tiber, and the rush of the water against the
piling of the bridge was distinctly audible. As the two drew near to a
closed gateway, a number of mongrel dogs began to snap and bark around
them. From within the building came the roar of coarse hilarity and
coarser jests. As Pratinas approached the solidly barred doorway, a
grating was pushed aside and a rude voice demanded:--

"Your business? What are you doing here?"

"Is Dumnorix sober?" replied Pratinas, nothing daunted. "If so, tell
him to come and speak with me. I have something for his advantage."

Either Pratinas was well known at the gladiators' school, or something
in his speech procured favour. There was a rattling of chains and
bolts, and the door swung open. A man of unusual height and ponderous
proportions appeared in the opening. That was all which could be seen