‘Humph—on whose business?’ said the superintendent suspiciously.
‘Caesar’s!’
‘Humph! I must have more than your word for that.’
Plautus, without speaking, thrust his fist close up under the official’s nose, and displayed a signet ring gleaming on one of his bony fingers.
The man of horses bobbed back his head with an angry gesture, which made the new-comers laugh, and turning to the grooms, said snappishly, ‘Give him Livilla.’
Plautus again thrust his ring under his visage. ‘I said horses,’ he growled roughly; ‘here are six of us. Nor will the nag Livilla do for me—pick out your own, lads, and no more palaver.’
This was soon done, amid much noisy mirth and rude jesting, and in a few minutes they were all speeding along the road to Surrentum, making the most of the last minutes of departing daylight.
Arriving at the town, they proceeded at a walk, in straggling order, to attract less attention. The streets were now dark, however, and the passers-by few in number; neverthe[pg 335]less Plautus, in the van, thought fit also to defeat any idle curiosity by taking a devious route.
Within a hundred yards of the dwelling of the ill-fated Masthlion, the band dismounted; the sweating horses were fastened in a gloomy corner, and a man left in charge of them. Plautus, with the remainder, proceeded to the house.
The outer door was closed and all was dark and silent. Plautus, ordering his companions to remain without until he called them, knocked loudly. A light step came running within.