“It is time, Democrates,” said Themistocles, who had preserved a grim silence, “that you showed us clearly whither your path is leading. This is a fearful accusation you launch against your best-loved friend.”
“Themistocles is right,” assented the orator, moving away from the luckless Seuthes as from a pawn no longer important in the game of life and death. “The whole of the wretched story I fear I must tell on the Bema to all Athens. I must be brief, but believe me, I can make good all I say. Since my return from the Isthmia, I have been observed to be sad. Rightly—for knowing Glaucon as I did, I grew suspicious, and I loved him. You have thought me not diligent in hunting down the Persian spy. You were wrong. But how could I ruin my friend without full proof? I made use of Agis,—no genteel confederate, to be sure, but honest, patriotic, indefatigable. I soon had my eyes on the suspected Babylonish carpet-seller. I observed Glaucon’s movements closely, they gave just ground for suspicion. The Babylonian, I came to feel, was none other than an agent of Xerxes himself. I discovered that Glaucon had been making this emissary nocturnal visits.”
“A lie!” groaned the accused, in agony.
“I would to Athena I believed you,” was the unflinching answer; “I have direct evidence from eye-witnesses that you went to him. In a moment I can produce it. Yet still I hesitated. Who would blast a friend without damning proof? Then yesterday with your own lips you told me you sent a messenger to disloyal Argos. I suspected two messages, not one, were entrusted to Seuthes, and that you proclaimed the more innocent matter thus boldly simply to blind my eyes. Before Seuthes started forth this morning Agis informed me he had met him in a wine-shop—”
“True,” whimpered the unhappy prisoner.
“And this fellow as much as admitted he carried a second and secret message—”
“Liar!” roared Seuthes.
“Men hint strange things in wine-shops,” observed Democrates, sarcastically. “Enough that a second papyrus with Glaucon’s seal has been found hidden upon you.”
“Open it then, and know the worst,” interjected Themistocles, his face like a thunder-cloud; but Democrates forbade him.
“A moment. Let me complete my story. This afternoon I received warning that the Babylonish carpet-vender had taken sudden flight, presumably toward Thebes. I have sent mounted constables after him. I trust they can seize him at the pass of Phyle. In the meantime, I may assure you I have irrefutable evidence—needless to present here—that the man was a Persian agent, and to more purpose hear this affidavit, sworn to by very worthy patriots.