He has the face of a villain and may well have behaved as one--who knows with what end in view?
Could I but lay hands upon him, I would have the truth out of his tongue by torture.

He is in Rome.

I saw him come forth from Marcian's house, when I was there on the king's service; but, of course, I could not speak with him.' Veranilda had seated herself within the portico.

Basil stood before her, ever and again meeting her eyes as she looked up.
'Just as little,' he resumed after a pause of troubled thought, 'can I know whether Marcian believed me a traitor, or himself had a traitorous mind.

The more I think, the less do I understand him.