she had locked it before going out and yet it was now standing wide open;
the lid, thrown back, hung askew by one hinge; the other was broken. A
dread, a hideous suspicion, froze her blood; the lamp trembled in her
hand as she leaned over the chest which ought to have contained every
thing she possessed. There lay the old documents, carefully rolled
together, side by side, but the two bags with Plutarch's money and the
Emperor's, had vanished. She took out one roll after another; then she
tossed them all out on to the floor till the bottom of the chest was
bare--but the gold was really gone, nowhere to be found.

The new slave had forced open the lid of the chest and stolen the whole
possessions of the orphans of the man who, to gratify his own vanity, had
brought him into the house.

Arsinoe screamed aloud, called in her creditors, explained to them all
that had occurred and implored them to pursue the thief; and when they
only listened to her with an incredulous shrug, she swore that she was
speaking the truth, and promised that whether the slave were caught or
not she would pay them with the price of her own and her father's
personal ornaments. She knew the name of the dealer of whom her father
had bought the slave and told it to the unsatisfied dealers, who at last
left her to follow up the thief as promptly as possible.

Once more Arsinoe was alone. Tearless, but shivering and scarcely
mistress of herself from misery and agitation, she took out her veil,
flung it over her head, and hurried through the court and along the
streets to her sister.

Verily, since Sabina's visit to the palace all good spirits had deserted
it.