. The latter counted it again, spat upon it for luck, made his mark
in the Roman's book, and unchained the girl's wrists.

The Roman laid a hand on the shoulder of his bargain.

"Come, pretty one!" said he, and turned, so that for the first time his
face was to be seen. "Thou'lt get no more blows nor curses, if so be
thou'lt do thy duty well."

Leering, he drew her forward. Nicanor cast a glance upon him, and
started, and hailed him. For the Roman was Valerius, the errant one;
and what he wanted with a slave girl who had no beauty, and where he got
her price, was more than Nicanor could tell.

Valerius, still with a hand on the girl's shoulder, grinned at him, and
said:

"Why, now, friend, 'tis a very good day that brings thee to my sight.
Not since I was repairer of sandals to the good fathers--thanks to
thee--have I seen thee, though I hunted the place over for thee, and
mourned right tenderly when I found thee not. And that was near a year
ago."

And always, though his speech was pleasant, as he spoke he moved away,
sidling, with a certain stealthiness, a glinting of his narrow eyes from
side to side. Nicanor became interested, and followed a pace. The girl
stared at him with desperate dumb eyes.

"Thou hast made a good purchase," he said carelessly, and thought that
for an instant the other showed his teeth.

"Not for myself!" Valerius said humbly. Whether it suited him, for
motives of his own, to play the worthy poor man, Nicanor could not tell.
"I but act on behalf of my lord Eudemius, of the great white villa off
the Noviomagus road, this side of Londinium--hey, now! by all the
furies, what is this?"

For the gray-faced girl, with hunted eyes, flung herself suddenly from
his hand, crying in a hoarse croak of a voice:

"Not for him! Not for the lord Eudemius, the Torturer! I am not bought
for him!"

Again Nicanor found himself staring, for there was fear and anguish in
her voice such as he had never heard in human tones. And as they looked
at her in amazement, she rocked from side to side, sobbing without
tears, and whispering keenly:

"Not for him! Ah, dear Christ in heaven! not for him!"

"And why not?" Valerius demanded. "What hast thou against him that his
name sends thee squealing--"

"What against him?" the girl said fiercely. "He tortures--he
mutilates--he strips flesh from living bones, and laughs! Let a slave
raise an eyelid in his presence, and he were better dead. Ay, I know--I
know!