“Was the gate on to the Patrician Way[186] locked?” he asked frowning.
“It is well. I will speak to your mistress. Woe to you, if you are in fault!”
“My lord,” the first speaker began again. “Grant me to say one word of explanation. In spite of the start the fugitives had gained, we might have caught them if an accident....”
He broke off and glanced at Quintus, who smiled and told him to go on. “Speak fearlessly,” he said kindly. “Accuse me, if you think well to do so—in fact, you have every right.”
The slave went on to relate how Quintus had delayed him and his comrades in the narrow hedge-grown passage. At each word Stephanus grew paler, and Quintus became more and more scornful in air and demeanor.
“Are this man’s assertions founded on fact?” asked Stephanus as the slave ceased speaking.
“How am I to interpret such a question?”
“Exactly as I ask it. I am interested to know whether a son of the noble Claudia gens can so far—condescend, as to abet the flight of a criminal?”
“That I did not say!” cried the slave, shocked.