'Oh, it's nothing.'

'If it was nothing,' I said, 'you wouldn't have thought of mentioning it.'

'Just a girl.'

'Marcus likes jobs involving girls,' Helena commented.

'I bet he does!'

'I met a nice one once,' I put in reminiscently. The girl I once met took my hand, fairly nicely.

'He's all talk,' Thalia consoled her.

'Well, he thinks he's a poet.'

'That's right: all lip and libido!' I joined in, for self-protection.

'Pure swank,' said Thalia. 'Like the bastard who ran off with my water organist.'

'Is this your missing person?' I forced myself to show an interest, partly to insert some professional grit but mainly to distract Helena from guessing I had been called to the Palace again.

Thalia spread herself on the arena seats. The effect was dramatic. I made sure I was gazing out towards the elephant. 'Don't rush me, as the High Priest said to the acolyte: Sophrona, her name was.'

'It would be.' All the cheap skirts who pretended to play musical instruments were called Sophrona nowadays.

'She was really good, Falco!' I knew what that meant. (Actually, coming from Thalia it meant she was really good.) 'She could play,' Thalia confirmed. 'There were plenty of parasites taking advantage of the Emperor's interest.' She was referring to Nero, the water-organ fanatic, not our present endearing specimen. Vespasian's most famous musical trait was going to sleep during Nero's lyre performances, for which he had been lucky to escape with nothing worse than a few months' exile. 'A true artiste, Sophrona was.'

'Musicianship?' I queried innocently.

'A lovely touch: And looks! When Sophrona pumped out her tunes men rose in their seats.'

I took it at face value, not looking at Helena, who was supposed to have been politely brought up. Nevertheless I heard her giggling shamelessly before she asked, 'Had she been with you long?'

'Virtually from babyhood.