Vague doubts and fears now mingled with his gratitude and hope, and involuntarily his thoughts reverted to what he would fain have forgotten for ever--to the morning when he had driven Antonina from her home.
Baseless apprehensions of the return of the treacherous Pagan and his profligate employer, with the return of their victim--despairing convictions of his own helplessness and infirmity rose startlingly in his mind.

His eyes wandered vacantly round the room, his hands closed trembling over his daughter's form; then, suddenly releasing her, he arose as one panic-stricken, and exclaiming, 'The doors must be secured--Ulpius may be near--the senator may return!' endeavoured to cross the room.

But his strength was unequal to the effort; he leaned back for support against the wall, and breathlessly repeating, 'Secure the doors--Ulpius, Ulpius!' he motioned to Antonina to descend.
She trembled as she obeyed him.

Remembering her passage through the breach in the wall, and her fearful journey through the streets of Rome, she more than shared her father's apprehensions as she descended the stairs.
The door remained half open, as she had left it when she entered the house.

Ere she hurriedly closed and barred it, she cast a momentary glance on the street beyond.