"I suppose Hieronymus was something of a character," I admitted, "and a good companion, when you got to know him. I can see how he might have been accepted in the households of your friends… and your enemies."

I looked down at his face. It seemed his grimace had softened a bit. Was the rigor beginning to pass? I looked at his long, gangly limbs; at the pale, thin hair on his head; at the narrow strip of wispy beard that outlined his sharp chin. What a bitter irony, to survive a terrible fate in his native city, only to meet death in a such a manner-alone, in a dark alley, far from home.

"Hieronymus, Hieronymus!" I whispered. "Who did this to you?"

"We don't know who killed him," said Calpurnia quietly, "or why. It might have been any of the subjects on whom he's been delivering reports. Perhaps, Gordianus, if you were to read those reports and pursue the threads that Hieronymus was following, you might discover who killed him."

I grunted. "And in the meantime, I'd be doing just as you wish-following in Hieronymus's footsteps and looking for threats to Caesar." How brazenly she played upon my sympathies to get what she wanted from me! "Why can't you deduce for yourself what Hieronymus discovered? You say he delivered reports. I presume you've read them. You must know what he was up to."

Calpurnia shook her head. "Like all informants, Hieronymus was never entirely forthcoming. It's human nature to hold something back-for the next meeting, the next payment. Hieronymus was more… frustrating in that regard than most of my agents. I knew he wasn't telling me everything, but, given his unique potential, I decided to be patient with him. Perhaps if I had been less indulgent and more demanding, he might still be alive."