l of shouting and a general stampede in the tribunes
of the plebs. In the midst of this shouting, which buzzed incessantly
like the war of a great cataract, two cries resounded very distinctly
above all the others.

Thousands of people were shouting:

"Hail to the praefect! Hail to the god of valour and of strength! Hail!
Taurus Antinor, hail!"

Whilst others cried more dully, yet equally distinctly:

"Death to the tyrant! Death to the madman! Death to Caesar! Death!"

That he himself was for the moment the object of enthusiasm of this
irresponsible crowd, he could not doubt for an instant. That this same
irresponsible enthusiasm was leading the crowd to treachery and
rebellion was equally certain.

The city guard egged on by the people had forced open the heavy iron
gates through which Hortensius Martius had passed a while ago, and which
led up the marble steps straight to the imperial tribune.

Taurus Antinor looking up now saw the Caesar standing pale and trembling,
surrounded by his standard bearers, whose attitude seemed strangely
irresolute. The Augustas were clinging together in obvious terror, their
heads were pressed close to one another, and the jewels in their hair
formed a curious shimmering mass of diamonds and rubies which caught the
rays of the sun and threw back blinding sparks of prismatic colours.
Dea Flavia was not near them. She was standing alone up against the
dividing wall of the tribune, and leaning back against it, with eyes
closed, and hand pressed against her heart.

All this did Taurus Antinor see, and also that Hortensius Martius, still
deathly pale and trembling in every limb, had succeeded in making his
way from the arcade where he had found safety, back to the patricians'
tribune amongst his friends.

He was standing now in the midst of a compact group composed of those
men who had been present two days ago at the banquet in Caius Nepos'
house. They stood close to one another whispering eagerly amongst
themselves. Hortensius Martius was obviously their chief centre of
interest, and young Escanes held his hand concealed within the folds of
his tunic.

And Taurus Antinor no longer paused to think. He had forgotten his
lacerated shoulder and his bleeding limbs; even the horrors of the past
quarter of an hour had faded from his mind. All that he saw was that
murder and treachery were walking hand in hand, and that the murder of
the insane Caesar now would mean the death of thousan