to get to Praeneste about dark, and there make a few inquiries as to the whereabouts and recent doings of Drusus.  Pratinas had had considerable espionage kept up over his intended victim, and the last results of this detective work were to be reported to Phaon by the slaves of Ahenobarbus performing it.  Perhaps there would be no real harm in driving straight through to Praeneste in the open daylight, but it was better not to show himself until the right time.  So it was that, halfway on the road, Phaon turned in to the tavern of the decaying little town of Gabii, gave his team to the hostler, and rested himself by fuming over the squalor and poor cooking of the inn.

II

Agias secured the fast Numidian from the stables of Gallus, and was soon away.  His frequent journeys between Rome and Praeneste, in service of Cornelia and Drusus, made him a fairly expert rider, and his noble mount went pounding past the mile-stones at a steady, untiring gallop.  The young Hellene was all tingling with excitement and expectation; he would save Drusus; he would send the roses back into his beloved mistress’s cheeks; and they would reward him, give him freedom; and then the future would be bright indeed.

But it grew late, fast as the horse bore him.  He felt it his duty to press on with all speed to Praeneste.  He had still a very vague notion of the final form of the conspiracy, especially of the role assigned to Phaon.  Of one thing he was certain:  to intercept Phaon was to deprive Dumnorix of an essential ally; but how to intercept the wily freedman was nothing easy.

As the Numidian swept into Gabii, Agias drew rein, telling himself that the horse would make better speed for a little rest and baiting.  The tavern court into which he rode was exceedingly filthy; the whole building was in a state of decay; the odours were indescribable.  In the great public-room a carter was trolling a coarse ditty, while through the doorway ran a screaming serving-maid to escape some low familiarity.

A shock-headed boy with a lantern took Agias’s bridle, and the Greek alighted; almost under his eyes the dim light fell on a handsome, two-horse gig, standing beside the entrance to the court.  Agias gave the vehicle close attention.

“It belongs to a gentleman from Rome, now inside,” explained the boy, “one horse went lame, and the veterinary[103] is coming.”  Agias’s eye caught a very peculiar bend in the hollow in the neck-yoke.  He had seen that carriage before, on the fashionable boulevards—­along the Tiber, in the Campus Martius—­the carriage of Lucius Ahenobarbus.  Phaon was waiting in the tavern!

  [103] Equarius.

“Care for my horse at once,” remarked Agias, a little abruptly.  “Time presses.”  And he turned on his heel, and leaving the boy gaping after him, went into the squalid public-room of the tavern.