"What was it?" asked Marcus.
"Only a young man, who said that he had been strictly charged by his
master, Demetrius the Alexandrian merchant, to deliver a letter at this
hour. Here is the letter."
"Demetrius, the Alexandrian merchant," said Marcus as he took it. "Why,
under that name Caleb who lies there dead passed in Rome."
"Read the letter," said Cyril.
So Marcus cut the silk, broke the seal, and read:
"To the noble Marcus,
"In the past I have worked you evil and often striven to take your life.
Now it has come to my ears that Domitian, who hates you even worse than
I do, if for less reason, has laid a plot to murder you on the threshold
of your own house. Therefore, by way of amends for that evidence which
I gave against you that stained the truth, since no braver man ever
breathed than you are, Marcus, it has come into my mind to visit the
Palace Fortunate wrapped in such a cloak as you Roman captains wear.
There, before you read this letter, perhaps we shall meet again. Still,
mourn me not, Marcus, nor speak of me as generous, or noble, since
Miriam is dead, and I who have followed her through life desire to
follow her through death, hoping that there I may find a kinder fortune
at her hands, or if not, forgetfulness.
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