The Magian assured the prefect that what the spirit of the great Macedonian had hinted at yesterday had since been confirmed by the demons in his service.  It would now be easy for Macrinus to possibly hinder Melissa, who might have been all-powerful, from coming between him and the great goal which the spirits had set before him.

Serapion then repeated the prophecy, which came with such convincing power from the bearded lips of the sage that the prudent statesman cast his last doubts from him, and, exclaiming, “I believe your words, and shall press forward now in spite of every danger!” he grasped the prophet’s hand in farewell.

Up to this point Macrinus, the son of a poor cobbler, who had had difficulty in rearing his children at all, had received these prophetic utterances with cool deliberation, and had ventured no step nearer to the exalted aim which had been offered to his ambition.  In all good faith he had done his best to perform the duties of his office as an obedient servant to his master and the state.  This had all changed now, and, firmly resolved to risk the struggle for the purple, he returned to the emperor’s apartments.

Macrinus had no reason to expect a favorable reception when he entered the tablinum, but his great purpose upheld his courage.  He, the upstart, was well aware that Fortune requires her favorites to keep their eyes open and their hands active.  He therefore took care to obtain a full account of what had happened from his confidential friend the senator Antigonus, a soldier of mean birth, who had gained favor with Caesar by a daring piece of horsemanship.  Antigonus closed his report with the impudent whistle of the Greek athlete; he dwelt chiefly on his astonishment at Melissa’s absence.  This gave food for thought to the prefect, too; but before entering the tablinum he was stopped by the freedman Epagathos, who handed over to him a scroll which had been given to him for the emperor.  The messenger had disappeared directly afterward, and could not be overtaken.  Might it not endanger the life of the reader by exhaling a poisonous perfume?

“Nothing is impossible here,” answered the prefect.  “Ours it is to watch over the safety of our godlike master.”

This letter was that which Melissa had intrusted to the slave Argutis for Caesar, and with unwarrantable boldness the prefect and Epagathos now opened it and ran rapidly over its contents.  They then agreed to keep this strange missive from the emperor till Macrinus should send to ask whether the youths were assembled in their full number on the race-course.  They judged it necessary to prepare Caesar in some sort, to prevent a fresh attack of illness.

Caracalla was standing near a pillar at the window whence he might see without being seen.  That whistle still shrilled in his ears.  But another idea occupied him so intensely that he had not yet thought of wiping out the insult with blood.