Archias had happened to be on his way back from one of the temples to his official residence when the disturbance took place, and he gave orders that the culprit should be brought before him at once. Half sobered by this fright, but not yet in full command of such faculties as he possessed, the man could think of nothing better than telling so much of the truth as would not absolutely incriminate him. He had come, he said, from Mantinea with a message from Eumenes, who had quite recently come to live in that city, to his son at Corinth. The message was to the effect that Eumenes was dangerously ill and desired to see his son without delay.
All this sounded sufficiently true. Archias was aware of his own knowledge that Eumenes had lately left Corinth to take up a situation at Mantinea, and that Eubulus was his son.
“Where,” he asked, “did you deliver the message?”
“At the trainer’s house,” was the reply.
A slave was dispatched with instructions to find out whether this account was correct. The [229] result appeared to be satisfactory. The trainer’s narrative exactly bore out the statement of the accused. The message itself which Eubulus had left behind him in the hurry of departure, was produced, and seemed to be another link in the chain of evidence. It was exactly what the prisoner had described. Archias was about to discharge the man with a caution not to get into trouble, he salving the wound which he had inflicted with half a dozen drachmae, when an unexpected difficulty arose. The official who assisted the Archon when he was sitting on the Bench was an expert in documents, as indeed he needed to be. Frauds were very common, for they were easily committed. Signatures made in handwriting are frequently imitated; when they were made by the purely mechanical method of dipping a seal into ink or other liquid, imitations were easy enough and naturally more frequent. He now whispered to the magistrate that he had some questions to ask about the document just brought into court. There was something suspicious about it, and it would be well to hear what the prisoner had to say. The Archon gave him permission to interrogate the prisoner, and cross-examination began.
“Did you see Eumenes sign this letter?”
The prisoner would have done well to answer [230] this question in the negative, and to say that it had been brought from the sick man’s room, and handed to him for delivery, but he had a vague idea that by saying he had seen the signature affixed he would be adding to the apparent genuineness of the paper.
“You saw him dip the seal in the ink then?”
“Yes, I saw him.”
The clerk’s next remark was not made aloud, but whispered into the Archon’s ear.
“As far as I can make out, the stuff into which the seal has been dipped is not ink at all, but a rude substitute for it.”
Another question was addressed to the prisoner.
“And the paper? Where did the paper come from? Did you see the writer take it from a drawer or case, or was it handed to him?”
The prisoner’s suspicions were aroused. These questions did not augur good. Immediately he stood on the defensive.
“I don’t know anything about the paper. It was lying by him when I came into the room, and I know nothing more than that he signed it.”
The clerk now made another whispered communication to the magistrate. He had made some discoveries about the paper. He recognized it as a kind that was sold by a certain dealer in [231] Corinth, who received it direct from Egypt, and who used to declare that he had the monopoly of it. A piece of it might of course have found its way to Mantinea, but this was not very likely. Then, again, it looked as if it had been used before. Some writing could be faintly traced on the other side, one of the words looking somewhat like Corinth. On the whole the document had a somewhat suspicious appearance, and it seemed not unreasonable that the prisoner should be kept in custody till the matter could be more fully investigated.
The court in which these proceedings had taken place was open to the public, and while they were going on two persons had come in whose presence happened to be singularly opportune. The two were the Corsican captain and his now inseparable companion Rufus.
The two had been listening with the deepest attention to an account given them by a bystander of what had been going on. The prisoner, they were given to understand, had been taken into custody for taking part in a brawl, and had accounted for his presence in Corinth by saying that he had brought an urgent message to Eubulus the runner from his father at Mantinea. They had been long enough in Corinth to know something about Eubulus, whose name, indeed, was [232] in every one’s mouth. His mysterious illness and not less mysterious recovery had been freely canvassed. And the suspicion that things were not quite straight had been freely expressed. And now his name had turned up again. This time Rufus, who had a professional acquaintance with such matters, anticipated the conclusions of his companions. He had seen such devices practised, and had indeed taken part in practising them himself. When he perceived that the genuineness of the summons was questionedfor so much could be gathered from the questions addressed to the prisoner by the magistrate’s clerkhe divined at once the character of the whole business.
“Depend upon it,” he whispered to the Corsican, “this is another dodge to get at the runner. He has been enticed out of the city by a forged message, and there are fellows to lay hands on him. I have known such things done myself.”
“Then tell the magistrate what you suspect,” said the Corsican.
“I think that you had better do it,” answered Rufus. “I must own that I am not quite at my ease when talking to gentlemen of his way of thinking.”
The Corsican acknowledged the force of the remark, and rising from his seat at the back [233] the court, said in passable Greek acquired during frequent residences at Alexandria, that he had something for the private ear of the Archon. He was accordingly invited to take a seat on the Bench, Rufus modestly remaining meanwhile in the background. His story carried conviction. The suspicious departure of Ariston fitted in exactly with what had happened since. They could hardly doubt that the attempt to disable Eubulus having failed, he had been lured out of the city by a forged message and was probably by this time in the hands of the brigands.
A DILEMMA
[234] THE Archon was not a little struck by the energy and intelligence of the new comer, and proposed a further conference on the matter. The two accordingly retired to the magistrate’s private apartment. What had happened was sufficiently plain. If the magistrate had entertained any lingering doubts, these were dissipated when the Corsican related to him what Rufus had said. “He would be here to repeat it,” he went on, “but he has his prejudices, and just now he doesn’t feel quite at ease when he sees a magistrate and his lictors and the other paraphernalia of a court. We may take it for granted, therefore, that the young man has been seized by the brigands. The question iswhat is to be done?”
“The scoundrels will follow their usual course,” said the Archon, “and will demand a ransom; And the ransom will have to be paid. It is not likely to be unreasonably large. The fellows [235] know their business too well to ask impossible sums. Indeed, I have often wondered how nicely they suit their demands to what they are likely to get.”
“I daresay,” remarked the Corsican with a smile, “they have more friends in Corinth than anybody knows. They must certainly have some well-informed person to give them a hint.”
“And the ransom will have to be paid,” the Archon went on. “It is a hateful necessity. Again and again I have felt my blood boil when I had to make a treaty, as it were, with these low-bred villains. I do think that if Rome takes away our arms, she ought to protect us. When Corinth was her own mistress, these scoundrels would have been swept off the face of the earth before the month was out. All this, however, is beside the purpose. The ransom must be paid, and if the young man’s friends have any difficulty in raising the money, I shall be glad to contribute.”
“That is very kind of you,” said the Corsican, “and what you say about paying the ransom is quite true. But there is another side to the affair which, if you will allow me to say it, you do not seem to have taken into consideration.”