Eudemius shook his head.
"Not to-night," he said. "I am over tired, and it grows late. To-morrow, perhaps. Did the Africans tell me that the old man Marcus is dead?"
"They did," Marius answered, somewhat surprised at the question. "Undoubtedly he was mad, for never did I see such actions in a sane man."
"And you believe that the gods will take vengeance on me for having brought to pass the death of such a haunted one?" Eudemius asked unexpectedly.
Marius shrugged.
"I did not say that," he answered. "Maybe they will, maybe not. If you believe that they will, it is probable that they will do so."
Eudemius laughed. As quickly he became grave once more.
"I had not meant to kill him! I was fond of him—I was even going to give him gold and have put upon him the pileus of a freedman, for he hath served me well. He had belonged to Constantia, my wife. Perhaps it was I who was mad to-night. Sometimes I have thought—I must ask Claudius if there is prospect of that—" He broke off. "Pardon! I forgot, and thought aloud. To-morrow I shall be myself, but to-night I am shaken. If you will excuse me, I shall leave you. The house is at your service, if you do not choose to retire yet. Summon Mycon—he shall fill Marcus's place—and give what commands you will."
"I think that I shall follow your example," Marius said, and stifled a yawn, "if you will tell me how to reach my rooms from here through these labyrinthine passages of yours. This part of the house I do not know well."
Eudemius looked at him in silence a moment, so that Marius thought he had not heard his question. He was about to repeat it, when Eudemius said: