A guard at the city gate inspected the carriage, and let it pass on.  In a few minutes, guided by Basil, it drew up before a house in a narrow, climbing street, a small house, brick fronted, with stucco pilasters painted red at the door, and two windows, closed with wooden shutters, in the upper storey.  On one side of the entrance stood a shop for the sale of earthenware; on the other, a vintner’s with a projecting marble table, the jars of wine thereon exhibited being attached by chains to rings in the wall.  Odours of cookery, and of worse things, oppressed the air, and down the street ran a noisome gutter.  When Basil’s servant had knocked, a little wicket slipped aside for observation; then, after a grinding of heavy locks and bars, the double doors were opened, and a grey-headed slave stepped forward to receive his mistress.  Basil had jumped down from his horse, and would fain have entered, but, by an arrangement already made, this was forbidden.  Saying that she would expect him at the second hour on the morrow, Aurelia disappeared.  Her cousin after a longing look at the blind and mute house, rode away to another quarter of the city, near the harbour, where was an inn at which he had lodged during his previous visit.  In a poor and dirty room, he made shift to dine on such food as could be offered him; then lay down on the truckle bed, and slept for an hour or two.

A knock at the door awoke him.  It was Felix, who brought the news that Marcian was at Cumae.

‘You have seen him?’ cried Basil, astonished and eager.

‘His servant Sagaris,’ Felix replied.  ’I met him but now in the forum, and learnt that his lord lodges at the house of the curial Venustus; hard by the Temple of Diana.’

’Go thither at once, and beg him, if his leisure serve, to come to me.  I would go myself; but, if he have seen Sagaris, he may be already on the way here.’

And so it proved, for in a very few minutes Marcian himself entered the room.

‘Your uncle is dead,’ were his first words.  ’I heard it in Neapolis yesterday.  What brings you here?’

‘Nay, best Marcian,’ returned the other, with hands on his friend’s shoulders, and peering him in the face, ’let me once again put that question to you.’

‘I cannot answer it, yet,’ said Marcian gravely.  ’Your business is more easily guessed.’

‘But must not be talked of here,’ interrupted Basil, glancing at the door.  ‘Let us find some more suitable place.’

They descended the dark, foul stairs, and went out together.  Before the house stood the two serving-men, who, as their masters walked away, followed at a respectful distance.  When safe from being overheard, Basil recounted to his friend the course of events at the Surrentine villa since Marcian’s departure, made known his suspicion that Aurelia had secretly returned to the Catholic faith.  He then told of to day’s journey and its purpose, his hearer wearing a look of grave attention.