Quintus, who was shrewd in the intuitive way of my mother, his elder sister, was still laughing. I reflected privately how glad I was not to be having this conversation with Helena Justina. She could winkle things out of people that they didn’t even know they thought and felt.

It made her a wonderful partner for my father. When I worked with the Camillus brothers, as I did intermittently, we had a similar relationship, but they always tried to take over the investigation. I was better on my own.

I never despaired of finding someone else to share my work in the balanced way my parents tackled commissions together – but I did not expect it to happen.

Quintus borrowed equipment and swiftly wrote letters, one to Faustus which Dromo took, and another to the tribune, carried by one of the bodyguards.

Commenting how quiet it was here (compared to his own lively ménage, with all those children tearing about), my uncle made himself at home. He had a nap, commandeering a bed in one of the good rooms. I sunned myself in the garden.

Polycarpus turned up, mithering about my visit that morning to his wife Graecina. I had half-expected him to check up. The steward was the type who needed to involve himself and be in charge. Now he wanted to satisfy himself first-hand that nothing had been said that he himself would have concealed.

‘Routine questions, Polycarpus. I just wondered if you could give me any useful background on Galla Simplicia. You must have had many dealings with her while she and Aviola were married, perhaps even since they divorced. I would value your opinion.’

‘Did my wife say something?’ he asked narrowly. Justinus had left his toga on the second chair, so the steward had to remain standing; he was a little put out and awkward. Excellent!

‘Nothing untoward.’ I presumed he had been told that in my talk with Graecina I had speculated on Polycarpus helping Galla Simplicia.

I tried to be honest with myself. Was I feeling prejudice? Did I want to think he was involved, because I had taken against him? ‘Polycarpus, we haven’t talked about your master’s ex-wife and children. Why didn’t you mention them?’

‘You didn’t ask.’

‘I was never told they existed! You could have said. So, come on – share your views.’

Polycarpus pulled a non-committal face, though what he said was pretty clear. ‘She looks soft, but she’s hard.’

‘Why did they divorce?’

‘She was a handful. He found it all too much. From little things he said, I think he was relieved to live as a single man again.’

‘But not permanently … Did he miss having a companion in bed?’

‘There are ways around that.’

‘Do you know what ways Aviola found? Assuming he did?’

‘I couldn’t say.’

He must know, but Polycarpus would not say it to me. I presumed this was the usual nonsense of men ganging up.