"Thou hast servants, good sir, and camels," he said, drawn into suggestion in spite of himself. "Do I overstep my privilege to suggest that thou mayest send to Anthedon or to Cæsarea and buy in other cities?"
"But the hire—the hire! And how should I know that the knavery does not extend to Anthedon and Cæsarea?"
"Then," said Marsyas, "establish thine own booths here and undersell the robbers."
There was silence; the small eyes of the old man narrowed and ignited.
"A just punishment," he muttered. "A proper punishment!"
"Or this," Marsyas continued, interested in his own conspiracy. "Thou sayest they oppress thee because thou art a lowly man! They are foolish. Display them thy power and punish them. Thou art a great usurer; powerful families here are in thy debt. How strong a hand thou holdest over them! What canst thou not compel them to do! Nay, good sir; to me, it seemeth thou hast the whip-hand over these tradesmen!"
The old man rubbed his hands. "An engaging picture," he said. "But unless I haste, they will ruin me yet!"
Marsyas shook his head. "Not if the tales of thy famous wealth be true."
The lectica had moved along beside him and he waited now to be dismissed; but, contrary to custom of that rank which is privileged to command, the old man waited for Marsyas to take his leave.
"Methinks," he began, "I have seen thee—"