"Nothing is impossible here," answered the prefect. "Ours it is to
watch over the safety of our godlike master."

This letter was that which Melissa had intrusted to the slave Argutis for
Caesar, and with unwarrantable boldness the prefect and Epagathos now
opened it and ran rapidly over its contents. They then agreed to keep
this strange missive from the emperor till Macrinus should send to ask
whether the youths were assembled in their full number on the race-
course. They judged it necessary to prepare Caesar in some sort, to
prevent a fresh attack of illness.

Caracalla was standing near a pillar at the window whence he might see
without being seen. That whistle still shrilled in his ears. But
another idea occupied him so intensely that he had not yet thought of
wiping out the insult with blood.

What could be delaying Melissa and her father and brother?

The painter ought to have joined the other Macedonian youths on the race-
course, and Caracalla was engaged in looking out for him, stretching
forward every time he caught sight of some curly head that rose above the
others.

There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and at every fresh disappointment
his rebellious, tortured heart beat faster; and yet the idea that Melissa
might have dared to flee from him never entered his mind.

The high-priest of Serapis had informed him that his wife had seen
nothing of her as yet. Then it suddenly occurred to him that she might