`I love it!' I was laughing. We both grabbed more wine, which now tasted almost palatable. `But Petro, you must have needed to take great care framing the actual charge against Balbinus. What did you throw at him?'

`Murder. The only count that would have worked.'

`Of course. It had to be a capital offence.'

`Right. Anything less and he would only end up with a fine and however large, a fine wouldn't choke him. He could shed thousands and hardly feel a tickle.'

I didn't say it, but putting Balbinus in court on any charge that left him free in Rome afterwards would have placed Petro himself in a very dangerous position. There was no point dwelling on this feature. He knew all right.

`So who had been topped – and how did you nail Balbinus for the murder?' I didn't suppose he had actually stuck a dagger in someone personally. `Getting blood spots on his own tunic was never his style.'

`Happy accident,' said Petro. `It happened at Plato's Academy.' The brothel we had already mentioned… `They specialise in fleecing foreign visitors. Some poor Lycian had been set up to lose his travelling pouch in the floor-creeping gag. While the girl was giving him the push-and-shove that he'd paid for, he made the mistake of noticing a rustle in the straw. Up he jumps, and discovers the whore's accomplice just reaching for his money. Instead of making a discreet complaint to the madam, then leaving the brothel with an apology and a wiser attitude, this fool puts up his fists and makes a fight of it. The snatcher was so surprised at the Lycian's unsporting behaviour that he knifed him on the spot.'

I whistled. `Someone should hand out warnings to innocent travellers! But how did you prove it? Surely the brothel's mother hen was used to denying all knowledge of trouble?'