e murdered body of his Emperor.
Before dealing with the whole band of traitors he wished to know who it
was that meant to reap the greatest benefit by the dastardly conspiracy.
There was one man alive in Rome at the present moment who thought to
become the successor of Caligula; that one man would be bold enough to
woo and win Dea Flavia for wife.

Caligula's one coherent thought ever since Caius Nepos had betrayed the
conspiracy to him, was the desire to know who that man was likely to be.
That was the man he most hated--the unknown man. Him he desired to
punish in a manner that would make all the others endure agonies of
horror ere they in turn met their doom. But his identity was still a
mystery. To discover it, the Caesar had need of the help of this girl
who stood there so calmly before him, defying his power and his threats.
He looked on her and understanding slowly came to him ... understanding
of the woman with whom he had to deal. It dawned upon him in the midst
of his tumultuous frenzy that here he had encountered a will that he
could never bend to his own--an irresistible force had come in contact
with an unbending one. One of the two must yield, and Caligula, staring
at the young girl who seemed so fragile that a touch of the hand must
break her, knew that it was not she who would ever give in.

His well-matured plan he would not give up. He had thought it all out
whilst he refreshed himself in his bath after Caius Nepos' visit, and it
was not likely that any woman could, by her obstinate action, move
Caligula from his resolve. But obviously he must alter his tactics if he
desired Dea Flavia's help. He could gain nothing by her death save
momentary satisfaction, and the matter was too important to allow
momentary satisfaction to interfere with the delights of future complete
revenge.

Therefore he forced himself to some semblance of calm. He was a perfect
mountebank, a consummate actor, and now he called to his aid his full
powers of deception. Cunning should win the day since rage and coercion
had failed.

Slowly his face lost every vestige of anger and sorrowful serenity crept
into his eyes. Tottering like one who feels unmanned, he sought the
support of a chair and fell sitting into it, with his elbows on his
knees and his head buried in his hands.

"Woe is me!" he moaned, "woe to the House of Caesar when its fairest
daughter turns traitor against her kin!"

"I! a traitor, good my lord!" she rejoin