ng a quiet pot of wine in the tavern at
Daphni, and be haled away as if to crucifixion? _Mu! Mu!_ make them untie
me, dear Master Glaucon."

"Put down your prisoner," ordered Democrates, "and all you constables stay
without the house. I ask Themistocles, Hermippus, and Glaucon to come to
an inner room. I must examine this man. The matter is serious."

"Serious?" echoed the bewildered athlete, "I can vouch for Seuthes--an
excellent Corinthian, come to Athens to sell some bales of wool--"

"Answer, Glaucon," Democrates's voice was stern. "Has he no letters from
you for Argos?"

"Certainly."

"You admit it?"

"By the dog of Egypt, do you doubt my word?"

"Friends," called Democrates, dramatically, "mark you that Glaucon admits
he has employed this Seuthes as his courier."

"Whither leads this mummery?" cried the athlete, growing at last angry.

"If to nothing, I, Democrates, rejoice the most. Now I must bid you to
follow me."

Seizing the snivelling Seuthes, the orator led into the house and to a
private chamber. The rest followed, in blank wonderment. Cimon had
recovered enough to follow--none too steadily. But when Hermione
approached, Democrates motioned her back.

"Do not come. A painful scene may be impending."

"What my husband can hear, that can I," was her retort. "Ah! but why do
you look thus dreadfully on Glaucon?"

"I have warned you, lady. Do not blame me if you hear the worst," rejoined
Democrates, barring the door. A single swinging lamp shed a fitful light
on the scene--the whimpering prisoner, the others all amazed, the orator's
face, tense and white. Democrates's voice seemed metallic as he
continued:--

"Now, Seuthes, we must search you. Produce first the letter from Glaucon."

The fat florid little Corinthian was dressed as a traveller, a gray
chalmys to his hips, a brimmed brown hat, and high black boots. His hands
were now untied. He tugged from his belt a bit of papyrus which Democrates
handed to Themistocles, enjoining "Open."

Glaucon flushed.

"Are you mad, Democrates, to violate my private correspondence thus?"

"The weal of Athens outweighs even the pleasure of Glaucon," returned the
orator, harshly, "and you, Themistocles, note that Glaucon does not deny
that the seal here is his own."

"I do not deny," cried the angry athlete. "Open, Themistocles, and let
this stupid comedy end."

"And may it never change to tragedy!" proclaimed Democrates. "What do you
read, Themistoc