ee you guardian of the peace. The painter is
less dangerous."

"He shall share their fate," cried the spy, and he licked his thick lips
as if tasting some dainty morsel. He waved an adieu to the Magian, and
hastened back to the great hall. There he strictly instructed one of his
subordinates to take care that the gem-cutter and his son Philip found
places on board a galley bound for Sardinia.

At the great door he again met Serapion, with the Syrian at his heels,
and the Magian said:

"My friend here has just seen a clay figure, molded by some practiced
hand. It represents Caesar as a defiant warrior, but in the shape of a
deformed dwarf. It is hideously like him; you can see it at the Elephant
tavern."

The Egyptian pressed his hand, with an eager "That will serve," and
hastily went out.

Two hours slipped by, and Zminis was still waiting in Caesar's anteroom.
The Greek, Aristides, shared his fate, the captain hitherto of the armed
guard; while Zminis had been the head of the spies, intrusted with
communicating written reports to the chief of the night-watch. The
Greek's noble, soldierly figure looked strikingly fine by the slovenly,
lank frame of the tall Egyptian. They both knew that within an hour or so
one would be supreme over the other; but of this they thought it best to
say nothing. Zminis, as was his custom when he wished to assume an
appearance of respect which he did not feel, was alternately abject and
pressingly confidential; while Aristides calmly accepted his hypocritical
servility, and answered it with dignified condescension. Nor had they any
lack of subjects, for their interests were the same, and they both had
the satisfaction of reflecting what injury must ensue to public safety
through their long and useless detention here.

But when two full hours had elapsed without their being bidden to
Caesar's presence, or taken any notice of by their supporters, Zminis
grew wroth, and the Greek frowned in displeasure. Meanwhile the anteroom
was every moment more crowded, and neither chose to give vent to his
anger. Still, when the door to the inner chambers was opened for a
moment, and loud laughter and the ring of wine-cups fell on their ears,
Aristides shrugged his shoulders, and the Egyptian's eyes showed an
ominous white ring glaring out of his brown face.

Caracalla had meanwhile received the praetorian prefect; he had forgiven
him his long delay, when Macrinus, of his own accord, had told him of