"Galen, have you—will that poison kill him?" Marcia demanded.

"No," said Galen. "Pertinax must kill him. I promised I would do my best for Pertinax. Behold your opportunity!"

Pertinax strode toward him, clutching at a dagger underneath his tunic.

"Kill me if you wish," said Galen, "but if you have any resolution you had better do first what you wanted me to do. And you will need me afterward."

Commodus was vomiting and in the pauses roaring like a mad beast. Marcia seized Pertinax by the arm. "I have done my part," she said. "Now nerve yourself! Go in now and finish it!"

"He may die yet. Let us wait and see," said Pertinax.

A howl rising to a scream—terror and anger mingled—came from the bedroom; then again the noise of vomiting and the creaking of the bed as Commodus writhed in the spasms of cramp.

"He will feel better presently," said Galen.

"If so, you die first! You have betrayed us all!" Pertinax shook off Marcia and scowled at Galen, raising his right arm as if about to strike the old man. "False to your emperor! False to us!"

"And quite willing to die, if first I may see you play the man!" said Galen, blinking up at him.

"Hush!" exclaimed Marcia. "Listen! Gods! He is up off the bed! He will be in here in a minute! Pertinax!"

Alarm subsided. They could hear the thud and creak as Commodus threw himself back on the bed—then writhing again and groans of agony. Between the spasms Commodus began to frame connected sentences:

"Guards! Your emperor is being murdered! Rescue your Commodus!"

"He is recovering," said Galen.

"Give me your dagger!" said Marcia and clutched at Pertinax' tunic, feeling for it.

But she was not even strong enough to resist the half-contemptuous shrug with which Pertinax thrust her away.

"You disgust me. There is neither dignity nor decency in this," he muttered. "Nothing but evil can come of it."

"Whose was the star that fell?" asked Galen.

There came more noise from the bedroom. Commodus seemed to be trying to get to his feet again. Marcia ran toward the smaller anteroom and dragged the curtains back.

"Narcissus!"

He came out, carrying Telamonion. The child lay asleep in his arms.

"Go and put that child down. Now earn your freedom—go in and kill the emperor! He has poisoned himself, and he thinks we did it. Give him your dagger, Pertinax!"

"I am only a slave," Narcissus answered. "It is not right that a slave should kill an emperor."

Marcia seized the gladiator by the shoulders, scanned his face, saw what she looked for and bargained for it instantly.

"Your freedom! Manumission and a hundred thousand sesterces!"

"In writing!" said Narcissus.

"Dog!" growled Pertinax. "Go in and do as you are told!"

But Narcissus only grinned at him and squared his shoulders.

"Death means little to a gladiator," he remarked.

"Leave him to me!" ordered Marcia.

"Go and sit down at that table, Pertinax. Take pen and parchment. Now then—what do you want in writing? Make haste!"

"Freedom—you may keep your money—I shall not wait to receive it. Freedom for me and for Sextus and for all of Sextus' friends and freedmen. An order releasing Sextus from the guard-house instantly. Permission to leave Rome and Italy by any route we choose."

"Write, Pertinax!" said Marcia. Narcissus glanced at Galen.

"Galen," he said, "is one of Sextus' friends, so set his name down."

"Never mind me," said Galen. "They will need me."

Marcia stood over Pertinax, watching him write. She snatched the document and sanded it, then watched him write the order to the guard, releasing Sextus.

"There!" she exclaimed. "You have your price. Go in and kill him! Give him your dagger, Pertinax."

"I hoped for heroism, not expecting it," said Galen. "I expected cunning. Is it absent, too? If he should use a dagger—many men have heard me say that Caesar has a tendency to apoplexy—"

"Strangle him!" commanded Marcia.

She thrust the palms of her hands against Narcissus' back and pushed him toward the bedroom door, now almost at the end of her reserves of self- control. Her mouth trembled. She was fighting against hysteria.

"Light! Lamp! Guards!" roared Commodus, and again the ebony-posted bed creaked under him. Narcissus stepped into the darkened room. He left the door open, to have light to do his work by, but Marcia closed it, clinging to the gilded satyr's head that served for knob with both hands, her lips drawn tight against her teeth, her whole face tortured with anticipation.

"It is better that a gladiator did it," remarked Pertinax, attempting to look calm. "I never killed a man. As general, and as governor of Rome, as consul and proconsul, I have spared whom I might. Some had to die but—my own hands are clean."

There came an awful sound of struggle from the inner room. A monstrous roar was shut off suddenly, half-finished, smothered under bedclothes. Then the bed-frame cracked under the strain of Titans fighting—cracked —creaked—and utter silence fell. It lasted several minutes. Then the door opened and Narcissus came striding out.

"He was strong," he remarked. "Look at this."

He bared his arm and showed where Commodus had gripped him; the lithe muscle looked as if it had been gripped in an iron vise. He chafed it, wincing with pain.

"Go in and observe that I have taken nothing. Don't be afraid," he added scornfully. "He fought like the god that he was, but he died—"

"Of apoplexy," Galen interrupted. "That is to say, of a surging of blood to the brain and a cerebral rupture. It is fortunate you have a doctor on the scene who knew of his liability to—"

"We must go and see," said Marcia. "Come with me, Pertinax. Then we must tidy the bed and make haste and summon the officers of the praetorian guard. Let them hear Galen say he died of apoplexy."

She picked up a lamp from the table and Pertinax moved to follow her, but Narcissus stepped in his way.

"Ave, Caesar!" he said, throwing up his right hand.

"You may go," said Pertinax. "Go in silence. Not a word to a soul in the corridors. Leave Rome. Leave Italy. Take Sextus with you."

"You will let him go?" asked Marcia. "Pertinax, what will become of you? Send to the guard at the gate and command them to seize him! Sextus and Narcissus—"

"Have my promise!" he retorted. "If the fates intend me to be Caesar, it shall not be said I slew the men who set me on the throne."

"You are Caesar," she answered. "How long will you last? All omens favored you—the murder in the tunnel—now this storm, like a veil to act behind, and—"

"And last night a falling star!" said Galen. "Give me parchment. I will write the cause of death. Then let me go too, or else kill me. I am no more use. This is the second time that I have failed to serve the world by tutoring a Caesar. Commodus the hero, and now you the—"

"Silence!" Marcia commanded. "Or even Pertinax may rise above his scruples! Write a death certificate at once, and go your way and follow Sextus!"

THE END