‘I tell thee, Afer, I am no fool!’ bawled Cestus; ‘it is thyself!’
‘I was, to trust your workmanship. Fabricius eats his postponed supper, and you are off to your foxholes, like a cur, with its tail between its legs. Begone and trouble me no more!’ thundered Afer, in uncontrollable passion.
‘You shall know that—clever as you think yourself, you are under my thumb. One word from me——’
‘Silence, you dog, when I bid you!’ hissed the knight, striding up to him and clutching his collar.
‘Not I, by Hercules!’ cried Cestus, thoroughly roused and reckless as he shook off the grasp. ‘You, a chicken-hearted, double-faced pauper, to be my master——’
‘Accipe——! Let that silence thee for ever!’
The knight threw up his arm as he spoke, and the Suburan, giving a sharp cry, fell heavily, stabbed in the breast.
Afer hastily wiped his poniard and replaced it in the folds of his cloak.
‘There is no bungling in this,’ he muttered; ‘dead men tell no tales.’
Only delaying to drag the fallen man by the heels more into the shadow of a wall, he hurried swiftly on; and, before morning dawned, he entered the yet sleeping town of Tibur, disappointed in mind, and yet not altogether without a feeling of satisfaction and relief at the course circumstances had taken.