Something to ponder as the inquiry proceeded.

After I was sure Polycarpus had left, and before I went to bed, I made further checks. As I had thought: there was no damage on the front doors or their fancy frame.

Something else failed to fit too: as far as I could tell by the tiny light of an oil lamp, there were no bloodstains on the corridor floor. It was black and white mosaic, with extremely small tesserae, neatly laid. Given the blood Nicostratus must have shed, I would expect to see indelible marks in the grouting, even if the floor had been deep-cleaned. I must double-check tomorrow in the light. Maybe Nicostratus managed to struggle away from his attackers and into the apartment – yet Phaedrus had definitely told me he found his colleague lying unconscious in the entrance corridor.

I was unsure whether this was good news or bad, but I had now identified the first inconsistencies.

11

Next morning I was busy. Fortunately Faustus sent Dromo quite early. He seemed subdued and biddable. I wondered whether he had been ticked off.

Breakfast in hand, I set about close inspection of floors. I felt like a picky housewife, looking for a reason to beat somebody. Someone else here must be equally meticulous, because what I was looking for proved very hard to spot. Eventually I did make out a patch in the hall, where something that might be blood had been cleaned as successfully as possible, though darkened mortar remained between the tiny marble pieces. Back in the narrow entrance corridor I still found no marks.

Further exploration led me to a store room used for collecting rubbish, where someone had dumped a bloody mattress of the thin, lumpy type the slaves used. This must have been Nicostratus’ bed, where he was put after he was attacked. I gave it a tug, but recoiled. I was trained to be inquisitive, but some jobs are too disgusting.

A thought struck me. If the porter was that badly hurt, however had he travelled to the Temple of Ceres? Faustus could help me out on that. I would write a report this evening, setting some homework: Faustus must ask the slaves how they escaped and reached the Aventine (on foot, presumably) – then specifically, how did the semi-conscious Nicostratus manage to cross half Rome with them? Maybe they carried him, but it was a long way.

Given that Nicostratus was the only suspect with an excuse − he was too physically hurt to help his master and mistress – why did he want to go?

I spent much of the morning diligently carrying out the experiments the Camillus brothers had suggested. I stood Dromo in the best bedroom, beside the bed where the murders occurred. I then went to each place where a slave had claimed to be asleep or drunk during the attack. I signalled when I was ready: ‘Now, Dromo!’ At which, if he was paying attention, Dromo yelled back, ‘Help! Help!’