‘I’ll not believe it,’ cried the old patrician hoarsely; ‘it must be proved—where is that wretch whom you say he hired?’
‘What would you do with him supposing I brought him?’
‘Were I forty years younger I would tear him limb from limb with my own hands—but now nothing remains to me but the justice of the law.’
‘Neither the one nor the other, although he is within your reach at this moment, for I am the man who was employed by your sweet nephew—I am the man who took away your child!’
Fabricius stood dumfounded for a moment, and his jaw fell.
Then the blood rushed to his face; his eyes flamed with terrible wrath, and, with a stride, he confronted Cestus.
‘Dog!’ he shouted hoarsely, as he clutched the Suburan with a grasp which was inspired with the vigour of youth.
But Cestus, in no way disconcerted, calmly pulled out the written guarantee from his bosom and held it up. The old [pg 391]man eyed it, hesitatingly, for a brief moment; then dropped his hands and tottered back to his chair, wherein he sank with a groan.
‘You have just cause for anger, and I admit it,’ said Cestus, in a lower and more respectful tone; ‘but you cannot now move without me, and I will do all I can to make amends. After all I am not so much to blame as your nephew. At that time I was an idle vagabond—you see I don’t attempt to hide myself—dwelling in the Subura, and your loving nephew, Titus Afer, tempted me with a handsome sum to do this thing. Only, mark you—I was to put the child clean out of the way—that is to say, I was to strangle her, drown her, kill her in the best and quietest way possible.’—Fabricius hid his face in his hands.—‘That was what I was paid to do, and, if I had done that, the job would have served his turn most effectually, as he intended, and you would never have been the wiser, perhaps. But bad as I was, there was left yet a soft spot in my heart, and to that is owing the life of the little maid. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her; and, moreover, what did I know but what she might be useful to me in the future. It turns out now that I was wise. A dead child is of no use to any one, but a living one is—vastly so at the present time. You will, therefore, see that I had to deceive your worshipful nephew. He thinks she is dead, as I told him she was, and all his pretended help in searching for her was nothing but a blind. Your money went, most of it, into his own pocket—and a comfortable income it was.’
Fabricius was overwhelmed. He rose unsteadily to his feet, and his face was ashen pale. Such terrible deception was scarcely credible to his trustful nature, and yet the evidence seemed too weighty to be easily explained away. Its great perfectness of detail, the unhesitating business-like manner of its delivery—above all, the clothes and amulet—were beyond doubt. Yet he eyed the man before him with unconcealed distrust, contempt, and indignation, to which, however, the Suburan was utterly indifferent.