A strong spasm passed through the prisoner’s frame. For a moment Democrates thought the bonds would snap. Too strong. The orator swung on his heel and returned to the outer room.
“The night wanes, kyrie,” remarked Hasdrubal; “if these good people are to be taken to the ship, it must be soon.”
“As you will. I do nothing more concerning them.”
“Fetch down the woman,” ordered Hasdrubal; in the mongrel Greek current amongst Mediterranean sea-folk. Two of his seamen ascended the ladder and returned with Lampaxo, who smirked and simpered at sight of Democrates and bobbed him a courtesy.
“The traitor is seized, your Excellency. I hope your Excellency will see that he drinks hemlock. You will be merciful to my poor husband, even if he must be arrested for the night. Gods and goddesses! what are these men doing to me?”
A stalwart Carthaginian was in the act of knotting a cord [pg 371]around the good woman’s arms preparatory to pinioning them.
“Kyrie! kyrie!” she screamed, “they are binding me, too! Me—the most loyal woman in Attica.”
Democrates scowled and turned his back on her.
“Your Lordship surely intended this woman to be taken also,” suggested Hiram, sweetly. “It cannot be he will leave such a dangerous witness at large.”
“Of course not. Off with her!”