crying: "Cursed den of murderers! An attempt on your life, great Caesar;
but we have him fast!"

"Assassination!" interrupted Caracalla with furious joy. "That was the
only thing left undone! Bring the murderer! But first"--and he
addressed himself to Aristides--"close the city gates and the harbor.
Not a man, not a ship must be let through without being searched. The
vessels that have weighed anchor since daybreak must be followed and
brought back. Mounted Numidians under efficient officers must scour the
high-roads as soon as the gate-keepers have been examined. Every house
must be open to your men, every temple, every refuge. Seize Heron, the
gem-cutter, his daughter, and his two sons. Also--Diodoros is the young
villain's name?--him, his parents, and everybody connected with them!
The physician knows where they are to be found. Alive, do you hear?--
not dead! I will have them alive! I give you till midnight! Your head,
if you let the jade and her brothers escape!"

With drooping head the unhappy officer departed. On the threshold he was
met by Martialis, the praetorian centurion. After him, his hands bound
behind his back, walked the criminal. A deep flush overspread his
handsome face, his eyes glowed under the too lofty brow with the fierce
light of fever, his waving locks stood out in wild confusion round his
head, while the finely cut upper lip with its disdainful curl seemed the
very seat of scorn and bitterest contempt. Every feature wore that same
expression, and not a trace of fear or regret. But his panting breast
betrayed to the physician's first glance that they had here to deal with
a sick man in raging fever.

They had already torn off his mantle and discovered beneath its folds the
sharp-edged butcher's knife which plainly betrayed his intentions. He