“I will not see you two gentlemen for a few days,” he said gayly. “I am going on a cruise with Alcibiades.”

“More piracy?”

“Perhaps,” answered Caliphronas mysteriously. “Good-by for the present. I must go down to look after the wine, and if you go back to the Acropolis, tell Helena I will see her before I go.”

With a jeering look at Maurice the duped scoundrel sprang down the steps, his snowy fustanella fluttering in the breeze, and he glittered down the descent like a brilliant falling star.

“You fool!” said a voice behind them, and they turned to behold Justinian with a complacent smile on his face.

“Well, you have succeeded, sir,” observed Maurice doubtfully.

“I have. Caliphronas thinks he has it all his own way. I see you don’t yet like my tactics.”

“Well, sir”—

“Tush!” replied Justinian coolly. “Punic foes—Punic faith!”

CHAPTER XXII.
THE APPLE OF DISCORD.