The conversation was carried on in low tones, a precaution absolutely necessary in the day when glass windows were unknown, unless the discourse was upon general subjects.  Malchus listened attentively, but although he thought he caught the words Hanno and Hannibal repeated several times, he was unable to hear more.  At the end of the half hour the conference was apparently at an end, for all rose to their feet.  One of the Carthaginians put a bag, which was evidently heavy, into the hands of one of the natives, and the party then went out.  Malchus stepped to the corner and caught the words, “Tomorrow night, then, without fail.”

The party then separated, the Carthaginians passing straight on, the natives waiting until they had gone some little distance ahead before they followed.  Malchus remained for some little time in the side street before he sallied out and took his way after them.  After he saw two of the natives leave the other, he quickened his steps and passed the man, who proceeded alone towards the palace, a short distance before he arrived there.  As he did so he glanced at his face, and recognized him as one of the attendants who waited at Hannibal’s table.  Malchus did not turn his head, however, but kept straight on his way and entered the palace as usual.

“Malchus,” the captain of the guard laughed as he went in, “assuredly I shall have to tell Hamilcar of your doings.  Last night you entered an hour after every one had retired to rest, tonight you are back in better time, but assuredly you have not been to the Syssite in that hunting cap.  This savours of a mystery.  Do not pretend to me that you have been looking after your company of Numidians at this time of the night, because, did you swear it by Astarte, I should not believe you.”

“No; I think I could invent a better story than that if I were put to it,” Malchus said with a laugh; “but as I am not obliged to invent one at all, I will leave you to do so for me.  In truth I have been about some private business, but what that business is is a profound secret.”

“A secret of state, no doubt,” the officer rejoined.  “Well, I will say nothing this time; but do not let it occur again, or I shall think that some Iberian maiden has captured that susceptible heart of yours.”

After Malchus had reached his chamber he sat down for some time in deep thought.  It was clear to him that something was wrong.  This secret meeting of the two Carthaginians with natives, one of whom was employed in Hannibal’s household, could mean no good.  Money had passed, too, and, judging from the size and apparent weight of the bag, no inconsiderable amount.  What could it mean?  It was but a few months before that Hasdrubal had fallen beneath the dagger of a native servant.  Could this be a plot against the life of Hannibal?