'My clients are easily impressed.'

'It stinks! Or is this just one of the drop-ins you keep around Rome?'

'Something like that.'

'It was the only address we had.' It was the only address I had. He tried the wine, then spluttered. 'Parnassus!'

'Gift from a grateful client,' Not grateful enough.

I poured myself a refill, as an excuse to shift the winejar out of his reach. He was having a good squint at me. My informality made him doubtful. The world is full of straight-haired fools who think curly-tops who grin at them cannot possibly be good businessmen.

'This place has all I need,' I said, implying that to exist in such squalor I must be tougher than I looked. 'The people I want to meet know where to find me - while the ones I may be avoiding are put off by the stairs... All right Hyacinthus, I don't issue a prospectus of my services, but here's what I can offer: I do information-gathering of a mainly domestic type-'

'Divorce?' he translated, with a grin.

'Correct! Also investigating prospective sons-in-law on behalf of sensitive fathers, or advising recent legatees whether their bequests involve any hidden debt. I do leg-work for lawyers who need more evidence - with a court appearance if required. I have contacts in auctioneering and I specialise in recovery of precious artworks after theft. I don't tackle draftdodgers or debt collection. And I never fix gladiatorial fights.'

'Squeamish?'

'Better sense.'

'We shall want to take up references.'

'So will I! All my business is legitimate.'

'How much do you charge, Falco?'

'Depends on the complexity of the case. A solving fee, plus a daily expense rate. And I give no guarantees, other than a promise to do my best.'