'
No sooner had this reply fallen from his lips than Sagaris seemed
stricken with alarm. He entreated pardon, declared he knew not what
he was saying, that he was dazed by the weariness of travel.
'I should have said--neither before nor after. My lord remains in
the city. I was to return with all speed.'
'He remains in the city?'
Basil reflected. It was possible that Marcian had either purposely
concealed his journey from this slave, and had suddenly found
himself able to set forth just after Sagaris had started.
'You bear a letter for the king?' he asked.
'A letter, Illustrious,' answered the slave, speaking very low.
'Ah, a letter?'
Sagaris went on to say that he had kept this a secret from
Venantius, his master having bidden him speak of it to no one and
deliver it into the king's own hand.
'It is in the Gothic tongue,' he added, his head bent, his look more
furtive than ever; 'and so urgent that I have scarce rested an hour
since leaving the villa.'
A terrible light flashed into Basil's eyes. Then he sprang at the
speaker, caught him by the throat, forced him to his knees.
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