“This is violence!"[187] exclaimed Stephanus, involuntarily raising his hands.
“The violence of reason against bad taste and coarse feeling!” said Quintus with a scowling look. “I should advise you, freedman,[188] to keep your hand hidden away in the folds of your robe, or in the depths of your coffers and money-boxes, or Quintus Claudius might happen to squeeze that hand rather more tightly than you would like!”
At the word “freedman” Stephanus had turned as pale as a corpse. He closed his eyes and staggered. His lean fingers trembled and twitched, as if he were feeling for a dagger. Then, mastering his agitation with an almost superhuman effort, he said faintly:
“I do not altogether understand what it is that you mean, so I will not trouble myself to answer ... you. Meanwhile you have only given the slaves some unnecessary extra labor.—To work, men!—refill the cauldron.”
“Too late,” said Quintus. “Your victim has escaped you.”
“He is dead!” cried the slaves.
Stephanus muttered something unintelligible between his teeth; then he ordered that the body should be removed.
“Antinous,” said he to one of the slaves, a remarkably beautiful young fellow: “I look to you to report all that has happened here, fully and exactly to the authorities. If Eurymachus is delivered up to me alive, I promise you a hundred thousand sesterces.—Here comes Lycoris with the soldiers of the town-watch.[189] Speak to them; tell them all you know, and offer them gold; that will inspire the most dilatory.”
“I hear and obey, my lord.”
“I am tired and shall withdraw. In ten minutes I shall expect to see you.”