"You have a right to the crown," the other answered quietly. "If you should die, then, according to Genseric's law of succession, Hoamer, as the oldest male scion of the race, would follow. So they have persuaded the King to invite you on the day of your return to a secret interview in the palace--entirely alone--and there murder you."
"Impossible, my friend. I have already seen the King. He received me ungraciously, ungratefully; but," he smiled, "as you see, I am still alive."
"You went to see the King, surrounded by all the leaders of your troops fully armed. But beware that he does not summon you again alone."
"That would be strange. We discussed every subject of moment."
At that instant steps echoed in the corridor. A negro slave handed Gelimer a letter. "From the King," he said, and left the hall.
The hero tore the cord that fastened the little wax tablet, glanced at the contents, and turned pale.
It is true. Come at the tenth hour in the evening to my sleeping room, with no companion. I have a secret matter to discuss with you.
HILDERIC.
"You see--"
"No, no! I will not believe it. It may be accident. Hilderic is weak; he hates me; but he is no murderer."