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Democrates reddened. He was glad the room was dark. “I am not here to quarrel about the pentathlon,” he said emphatically. “Oh, very well. Leave your dear sparrow to my gentle hands.” The Spartan’s huge paws closed significantly: “Here’s the wine. Sit and drink. And you, Hiram, get to your corner.” The Oriental silently squatted in the gloom, the gleam of his beady eyes just visible.
Eurybiades rose at the head of the table. He was a heavy, florid individual with more than the average Spartan’s slowness of tongue and intellect. Physically he was no coward, but he dreaded responsibility. “Much has been said,” he announced ponderously, “many opinions offered. It would seem the majority of the council favour the decision to retire forthwith.
“You have never heard the Furies, Lycon.” Democrates’s voice was so grave as to dry up the Spartan’s banter. “But I shall never see him again, and I shall possess Hermione.” “A pretty consolation. Eu! here are our outposts. We must pass for officers reconnoitring the enemy. You know your part to-morrow. At the first charge bid your division ‘wheel to rear.’ Three words, and the thing is done.”
Here’s Dexippus’s slave or else a Barbarian spy: in either case to the temple with him, and don’t you hinder.” He plucked at the boy’s girdle; but the athlete extended one slim hand, seized the Spartan’s arm, and with lightning dexterity laid the busybody flat on Mother Earth. He staggered upward, raging and calling on his fellows. “Sparta insulted by Athens! Vengeance, men of Lacedæmon! Fists!
“Shall I thank the murderer of my friend?” “Even when that friend has wronged you?” “Silence! What do you mean?” Even in the flickering lamplight Democrates could see the Spartan’s evil smile. “Of course—Hermione.” “Silence, by the infernal gods! Who are you, Cyclops, for her name to cross your teeth?” “I’m not angry. Yet you will thank me to-morrow.
“Worthy Lacedæmonian,” said Democrates, with what patience he could command, “if you desire to go over all that little business which concerned us then, at least I would suggest not in the open Agora.” He started to walk swiftly away. The Spartan’s ponderous strides easily kept beside him. None in sight. Lycon kept fast hold of his cloak. For practical purposes Democrates was prisoner.
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