The pirates, indeed, might have wished to take her for ransom; but no, they bore her off with never a demand for money from any friend or relative.

I have tried to trace them--the Pompeian ships on every sea make it impossible.

I have questioned many prisoners and spies; she is not at the Pompeian camp with her uncle.

Neither can I discover that her kinsmen among the enemy themselves know where she is.

And to this is added that other mystery: whither has my Aunt Fabia vanished?
How much of the account of those who followed her to the river dock is to be believed--that pirates saved her from Gabinius, and then abducted her?
Upon all, my clever freedman Agias is gone--gone without ever a word, though I counted him faithful as my own soul!" "And what then do you expect ?" asked Antonius, not without friendly interest.
"What can a man, who dares to look the situation in the face, expect, except something too horrible to utter ?" and Drusus groaned in his agony.
"You mean--" began his friend.
"That the pirates have kept Cornelia and perhaps Fabia in their vile clutches until this hour; unless, indeed, the Fates have been merciful and they are dead! Do you wonder at my pain ?" "_Phui!_ we will not imagine any such disagreeable thing!" said Antonius, in a sickly effort to make banter at the other's fears.
"Don't speak again unless you want me your enemy," threatened Drusus, springing up in fury.