‘Humph! you are not very flattering,’ returned Cestus; ‘but haste, and let me have what I want to know, and along with it all the cash I left with you. I shall want all I can scrape together.’
The publican departed, and, in an hour, was back with what Cestus wanted. The latter stowed away his treasure safely in the breast of his tunic, and learned that his patron was in the island of Capreae, in the train of the Prefect.
‘And when returns?’ he demanded.
‘That is more than any one can tell,’ answered his banker.
‘Capreae is where Caesar dwells?’
‘It is, brave Cestus—hast ever been there?’
‘No; but it can be seen at times, like a speck, from Puteoli. He can’t stay there for ever.’
‘Who—Caesar?’
‘No, you fool—Afer.’
‘Ah!’