I was amusing myself putting an auction price to a Phidias 'Venus adjusting her Sandal' (which gave every appearance of being original, unlike almost every other Phidias you run across in Rome) when a door flew open behind me and a female voice cried, 'There you are!'

I spun round guiltily. When I saw what she looked like, I did not apologise.

She was a peach. She had kissed farewell to forty, but if she ever went to the theatre she would attract more attention than the play. Her melting dark brown eyes were outlined with kohl, yet even left to nature those eyes would cause moral damage to any man with a nervous system as susceptible as mine. The eyes were set in a near perfect face, and the face belonged to a body which made the Phidias Venus look like an out-of-condition eggseller who had been on her feet all day. She knew exactly the effect she had; I was swimming in perspiration where I stood.

Since I had asked for Sabina Pollia, I assumed this was she. From behind her two burly boys in vibrant blue livery surged towards me.

'Call off your dogs!' I commanded. 'I have an invitation from the lady of the house.'

'Are you the informer?' The direct way she spoke suggested that if it suited her she might not be a lady.

I nodded. She signalled the two flankers to back off. They stepped aside just enough for privacy though near enough to lather me soundly if I tried to cause offence. I had no intention of doing that - unless someone offended me first. 'If you ask me,' I said frankly, 'a lady should not need a bodyguard in her own home.'