Quick strides took him to a chest. He dragged forth a sleeveless sailor’s cloak of hair-cloth. To fling this over Glaucon’s rent chiton took an instant, another instant to clap on the fugitive’s head a brimless red cap.
“Euge!—you grow transformed. But that white face of yours is dangerous. See!” he rubbed over the Alcmæonid’s face two handfuls of black ashes snatched from the hearth and sprang back with a great laugh, “you’re a sailor unlading charcoal now. Zeus himself would believe it. All is ready—”
“For prison?” asked Glaucon, clearly understanding little.
“For the sea, my lad. For Athens is no place for you to-morrow, and Brasidas sails at dawn. Some more wine? It’s a long, brisk walk.”
“To the havens? You trust me? You doubt the accusation which every friend save Hermione believes? O pure Athena—and this is possible!” Again Glaucon’s head whirled. It took more of the fiery wine to stay him up.
“Ay, boy,” comforted Phormio, very gruff, “you shall walk again around Athens with a bold, brave face, though not to-morrow, I fear. Polus trusts his heart and not his head in voting ‘guilty,’ so I trust it voting ‘innocent.’ ”
“I warn you,” Glaucon spoke rapidly, “I’ve no claim on your friendship. If your part in this is discovered, you know our juries.”
“That I know,” laughed Phormio, grimly, “for I know dear Polus. So now my own cloak and we are off.”
But Lampaxo, who had watched everything with accumulating anger, now burst loose. She bounded to the door.
“Constables! Help! Athens is betrayed!”