“Above all, my friends, remember that in Rome every stone has eyes and ears,[271] and the thin walls of a lodging-house are as good as a spider’s web to the spy.”
The flute-player drew closer to her husband’s side.
“It is only too true,” she said with a sigh, “I could almost have sworn....”
“What?” asked Diphilus.
“That our pursuers are on our traces already."[272]
“How?”
“Nay, it is only my feeling about it. I am always in a state of mortal terror.”
Thrax Barbatus shook his head doubtfully. “Your fears are unfounded,” he said emphatically. “Not a man in Rome knows of our intimate relations with Eurymachus. My poor son, who left his home when he was hardly more than a boy and did not return for twenty years, when his own rather scarcely recognized him—no, Euterpe, the still face of the dead will betray nothing.” He passed his hand over his eyes.
“I know,” replied the flute-player. “And yet....”
“What is it?” asked the old man glancing hurriedly round.