These last words were for his friend’s encouragement.  As soon as the letter had been despatched, he went forth about Rome in his usual way, spoke with many persons, and returned home unscathed.  Plainly, then, he was to be left at liberty yet awhile; Pelagius had purposes to serve.  Next day, he betook himself to the Palatine; Bessas received him with bluff friendliness, joked about his escape from death (for every one believed that he had had the plague), and showed no sign of the mistrust which had marked their last meeting.  In gossip with certain Romans who were wont to hang about the commander, flattering and fawning upon him for their base advantage, he learnt that no one had yet succeeded to the place left vacant by the hapless Muscula; only in casual amours, generally of the ignoblest, did Bessas bestow his affections.  Of Heliodora there was no talk.

Another day he passed in sauntering; nothing that he could perceive in those with whom he talked gave hint of menace to his safety.  Then, early the next morning, he turned his steps to the Quirinal.  As usual, he was straightway admitted to Heliodora’s house, but had to wait awhile until the lady could receive him.  Gloomily thoughtful, standing with eyes fixed upon those of the great bust of Berenice, he was startled by a sudden cry from within the house, the hoarse yell of a man in agony; it was repeated, and became a long shriek, rising and falling in terrible undulation.  He had stepped forward to seek an explanation, when Heliodora’s eunuch smilingly came to meet him.

‘What is that?’ asked Marcian, his nerves a-quiver.

‘The noble lady has ordered a slave to be punished,’ was the cheerful reply.

‘What is his fault?’

‘Illustrious, I know not,’ answered the eunuch more gravely.

The fearful sounds still continuing, Marcian turned as though to hurry away; but the eunuch, following, implored him not to go, for his departure would but increase Heliodora’s wrath.  So for a few more minutes he endured the horror of that unbroken yell.  When it ceased, he could hear his heart beating.

Summoned at length to the lady’s presence, he found her lying in the chamber of the Hermaphrodite.  A strange odour floated in the air, overcoming that of wonted perfumes.

Faint with a sudden nausea, Marcian performed no courtesy, but stood regarding the living woman much as he had gazed at the face in marble, absent and sombre-browed.

‘What now?’ were Heliodora’s first words, her smile fading in displeasure.

‘Must we needs converse in your torture-chamber?’ asked Marcian.

‘Are your senses more delicate than mine?’

’It seems so.  I could wish I had chosen another hour for visiting you.’

‘It was well chosen,’ said Heliodora, regarding him fixedly.  ’This slave I have chastised, shall I tell you of what he was guilty?  He has a blabbing tongue.’

‘I see not how that concerns me,’ was his cold reply, as he met her look with steady indifference.