“A word to you in a private room may be valuable.”
Euphorbus looked fixedly at him a moment, and led the way to a small office within. Beltrezzor produced a sparkling gem of considerable value.
“I wish to speak with the young woman who is confined in the amphitheatre.”
“Impossible!” said the keeper, gruffly.
“I am her uncle.”
“No admittance to anyone on pain of death,” said the Gaul, casting a wistful eye on the jewel.
Beltrezzor drew forth a precious stone of remarkable size and immense value.
“These are yours, my friend, for a single brief interview with my niece.”
“Hark you!” said Euphorbus, taking the jewels into his hand. “I am willing to gratify and befriend you; but there are four Roman soldiers at the door of her cell, who permit no one but myself to go in or out.”
“Are they not under your command?”