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Updated: August 26, 2024
Life, death, Hellas, Hermione, all flashed before his eyes as he sat numbed, but Sicinnus saved them both. “The password to-night? You know it,” he demanded in quick whisper. “ ‘Hystaspes,’ ” muttered Glaucon, still wool-gathering. “Who are you?
An agent of mine is back from Asia, surely with news of weight, if he must seek me at once in Eleusis.” But Themistocles lingered outside; an instant more brought a summons to Democrates, who found Themistocles in an antechamber, deep in talk with Sicinnus,—nominally the tutor of his sons, actually a trusted spy. The first glance at the Asiatic’s keen face and eyes was disturbing.
If Democrates could discover the confederate himself, Sicinnus would regard the matter as cleared up and drop all interest therein. All these possibilities raced through the orator’s head, as does the past through one drowning. A sudden greeting startled him. “A fair morning, Democrates.” It was Glaucon. He walked arm-in-arm with Cimon. “A fair morning, indeed. Where are you going?”
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