In this room, next in size to the workshop, the secret society had assembled. It was late in the evening, and at each end of the counter lamps were burning on tall brass tripods. The green curtain between the pillars was drawn, and closed the apartment like a wall.
Business discussions had not yet commenced; Thuphrastos and Hipyllos were talking about armor and weapons. Xenocles had several times given signs of impatience, till at last Sthenelus laughed, saying:
“Let the weapons rest! Xenocles has something to tell and, it seems to me, something important.”
“Yes, by Zeus, I have!” cried the eager little man and, glancing cautiously around him in every direction, he whispered: “I fear we are betrayed.”
Acestor started from his couch.
“Betrayed?” he repeated with evident anxiety.
Xenocles looked enquiringly at Sthenelus, who nodded assent.
“I was talking with Sthenelus this morning at the market,” the little white-haired man continued. “We were standing in front of the arcade of Zeus the Liberator and, when we parted Sthenelus called after me: ‘You know we meet this evening at Lamon’s.’ The words were spoken by the statue of Zeus the Liberator. As I turned to go, Sthenelus pointed to the ground. A little round shadow, like a man’s head, appeared in the great one cast by the pedestal. Urged by the same fear, we both hurried behind the statue and saw a thin man with tangled hair walking rapidly away. He was scarcely ten paces from us.”
“Who was the man?” asked Acestor breathlessly.
“Cephisodemos.”