"Running a foot race round the Temple of Saturn." I had chosen to answer with such simple honesty because there was a slim chance Petronius already knew. Besides, I wanted the girl to believe she was dealing with a man who told the truth.

I introduced the watch captain to my dazzling client: "Petronius Longus, district patrolman; the best."

"Good evening, sir," she said.

I guffawed bitterly. Take a job in local government, women will call you "sir"I Sweetheart, there's no need to overdo it."

Take no notice of this tricky character," Petronius scoffed in his easy way, smiling at her with an interest I did not altogether like.

She smiled back at him, so I clipped tersely, "We men want to gossip with a wine jug; go into the bedroom and wait for me."

She shot me a look, but she went. That's the benefit of a liberal education, this little girl knew she lived in a man's world. Besides, she had pretty manners and it was my house.

"Nice!" approved Petronius, in a low voice.

He has a wife, who for some reason adores him. He never refers to her, but must care about her; he's the type who would. They have three daughters, and like a good Roman father he is utterly sentimental about his girls. I could see a day coming when the Tullianum jail would be crammed with frightful young sprogs who had cast their beady eyes at Petro's girls.

I produced two wine cups which looked clean, though I polished up Petro's on the hem of my tunic before I clonked them on the table. In the hole under a floorboard that passed for my wine cellar I had some smoked Spanish poison that was a gift from a grateful client, some new dusky red that tasted as if it had been robbed from an Etruscan tomb, and a well-aged amphora of decent white Setinum. Since Petro's visit was so awkwardly timed, I wavered over acting casual and just serving the Etruscan, but in the end I settled for the Setinum because we were old friends and anyway I fancied some myself.