"I ought to know this man's face," said Agathocles, studying him closely. "For years I have seen these eyes, like those of a panther as it slinks away from one it dares not attack. In Alexandria, in Macedon, in Rome, I have seen these same eyes spying on me. Let me squeeze his secret out of him."
The General's hands were upon the man's throat.
"I am Cleon. Do you know me now?" gasped the wretch.
"Cleon? There was a Cleon in Alexandria, a vile procurer for the beastly Ptolemy. Yes, those eyes are Cleon's, as sure as ever snake owned his. But I never harmed you, Cleon. Why do you pursue me?"
"You lie!" wheezed the man. "You were always in my way. You call me a snake. Well! have you not both writhed when I bit you? You, Dion, have drunk my poison; and the great Agathocles was in the mines in Sicily, where I—I—Cleon sent him. I have had my vengeance. Now take yours."
"I see it all," said the General. "This Cleon, panderer to the vilest folk of Alexandria, was the agent of those who would have stolen the estate of Shattuck, but for the influence of Ctesiphon and myself, and the help of Gideon. It was Cleon's hand that struck you, Dion, when a babe; the mark of which blow Gideon carried to his grave. It was the same hand that mixed the poison for us both in Macedonia. It was this man's tongue, black with perjury, that gave the lying information against me to the Romans."
"Well, now you know me," said the man with assumed indifference, "you can only kill me."
"Let us take him into the city," said Agathocles. "This man is so false that I can hardly believe his damning confession against himself without better evidence."