The words of Gannon’s message again flashed over his mind. They burned into his brain like red-hot irons. Their full import now dawned upon him. He now understood why Sejanus wished to silence the boy’s lips. The terrible possibilities of Psyche’s fate, if she but acknowledged having read Gannon’s writing, tortured him so that he knew not what to do. Finally he decided to go to the house of Alcmaeon, procure the tunic, and destroy the evidence. As he left the palace gate, he heard the tramp of feet on the lava-paved street. He concealed himself in the shadow of the wall and waited. A litter escorted by a few soldiers stopped near him. He saw a man descend, and he heard an order to wait at the entrance. He saw the gate swing open. The faint light of the porter’s lantern revealed the features of the minister and murderer, Sejanus.
At the sight of the man who had caused Gannon’s murder and Psyche’s imprisonment, there rushed over Gyges such a flood of bitterness and hatred that with supreme difficulty he restrained an impulse to spring and strangle him. But Sejanus quickly disappeared in the darkness, and Gyges was again left alone with his thoughts. This time he thought of himself. Questions such as these arose in his mind: “What if Sejanus knew that I was with Psyche when she was arrested? What if he knew that I had read Gannon’s message? What if he knew that I have full insight into his infernal crime?” Gyges trembled. The terrible significance of his position almost overwhelmed him.
But his unhappy meditations were cut short by the return of Sejanus. The minister was not alone. Some one kissed his hand. The massive gate was opened by the porter. As the gate closed, a face from within looked through the iron bars. Gyges started; for in the dim light he recognized the leering features of Lygdus.
As soon as Sejanus and his guards had passed on, Gyges, with trembling speed, fled in the opposite direction.
Chapter X
AS the frightened deer flees at the sound of cracking twigs and crunching leaves, so fled Gyges, startled by his thoughts. He ran, he knew not why. The dark streets through which he passed were lighted only by lamps burning before small shrines. Sounds of merry laughter, of loud conversation, of joyful songs, and of crying children came from the houses; but he heard nothing. He took no note of the dark shadows that seemed to flee to one side to let him pass. The impulse to get away from his horrible revelation drove him on, on, on, until he arrived before the Temple of Julius Caesar in the Forum. While he stopped to regain his breath, he noticed that a slight mist was falling. He felt a chill pass over him. The smoke that came from the altar of the Temple of Vesta hovered in the damp air. Here and there from the windows in the palace of Tiberius on the Palatine Hill near by could be seen flickering lights.
His fine physique could not now prevent him from falling a prey to the terrors of his excited imagination. The keen eye that could judge distances with nice exactness in the Circus Maximus could now see no path before him. The hands that could draw the reins and check the impetuous plunge of his horses were stronger than his will was to check the rushing of his thoughts. His courage, that used to ring in his voice and inspire the horses to make a supreme effort to gain the finish line, melted now before the heat of his convictions. His adamantine nature had finally been pierced. He suffered under the writhings of a tormented soul.
Resting against the rostra before the Temple of Julius Caesar, he dropped his face into his hands and breathed a pathetic “Oh-h-h” that came from the profound depths of his soul. He heard near by the footsteps of some one who groaned at every step. He saw indistinctly in the darkness the small figure of a lad.
“Ho, boy!” called Gyges.
The lad stopped and asked, “Who calls?”