‘Nothing! When am I to be assured of this arrangement?’
‘To-morrow you shall know all particulars. What more do you want of me, for I am full of business? Nevertheless, you see how a simple word from you brought me to your side.’
‘I want nothing more. You are now free for your royal Livia.’
‘Free, but not forgotten—at least on my part.’
‘Farewell, Prefect!’ said Plautia, waving her white hand.
‘For the last time, then,’ he said, laughingly catching it and kissing it.
‘To-morrow I shall hear from you without fail?’
‘To-morrow most surely!’ he replied; and, wafting another kiss with his hand, Sejanus left the room and hastened away. Entering the neighbouring Subura, he sought a by-court out of the stream of the bustling, main thoroughfares. It was narrow, tortuous, dirty, and unsavoury. But little of the sky could be seen above; and the denizens of the place were slovenly, dirty, half-dressed men and women, slouching along, or lounging in knots. Any intruder of respectable appearance into their haunt, encountered such a cross-fire of baleful glances from these evil-eyed individuals, whose lowering visages were plainly stamped with night and enormity, that, being of timid nature, the visitor might well breathe more freely, and be thankful when he reached a public place once more. The Prefect, however, was of different mould, and gave no heed to the scrutiny of the night-vultures whom he passed. He paused before a door, at which he knocked. There was a considerable delay, and only, when he had thundered two or three times more, was a shuffling step heard within. The bolts were drawn and the door opened slowly a couple of inches, just sufficient to afford a glimpse of elf-locks, a withered skin, and a pair of watery, glistening eyes.
‘What want ye?’ asked a harsh, but yet a woman’s voice.
‘Thy master, Tigellinus. Open quickly!’ said Sejanus roughly.