“Silence, if you value your life. You know me; I am Malchus the son of Hamilcar. Now, tell me the truth, or tomorrow the torture shall wring it from you. Who placed you here, and why?”
“Carpadon, one of the chief attendants, ordered me to remain here to admit him on his return. I knew not there was harm in it,” the slave said.
“Is it the first time you have kept watch for such a purpose?”
“No, my lord, some six or seven times he has gone out late.”
“Do you know the cause of his absence?”
“No, my lord, it would not become a slave to question one of the chief attendants of my lord Hannibal as to why he goes or comes.”
The man's manner was so natural, and his surprise at the interest which one of the rank of Malchus showed in the doings of an attendant so genuine, that Malchus was convinced he knew nothing of any enterprise in which the man who had placed him there might be engaged.
“Very well,” he said, “I will believe what you tell me. Now, do you resume your place at the door, and open it as usual at his signal. Say no word and make no sign which may lead him to know of our presence here. Mind, my eye will be upon you, and your life will pay for any treachery.”
Malchus with four of his men now took post on one side of the door, standing well back in the shadow so that their presence would not be noticed by anyone entering. Trebon with the remaining four men took up a similar position on the other side of the doorway.
Two hours passed. At length a low tap followed by two others was heard at the door. The slave at once opened it. Carpadon entered, and with a sudden movement threw one arm round the slave's neck and with the other stabbed him to the heart. Then he opened the door wide, and said in a low tone: