I was determined to investigate that cameo’s history. I lied, therefore, and said I did not have it. ‘I’d forgotten all about it. Maybe those light-fingered caterers of yours saw somebody drop it and picked it up a second time . . .’ No; he had been to ask them, he said. Jupiter! He must have been busy. ‘Who were they anyway?’ I asked. ‘You’d have to lock up the family silver if you hired them, but that chef was wonderful.’

Briefly, Anacrites glowed under my praise. ‘The organiser is called Heracleides, sign of the Dogstar by the Caelimontan Gate. Laeta put me on to them.’

‘Laeta?’ I smiled gently. ‘Taking a risk, weren’t you?’

‘I checked their credentials. They provide imperial banquets, Marcus.’ Anacrites sounded stiff. ‘Gladiators’ last meals before a fight. Buffets for seedy theatre impresarios who are trying to seduce young actresses. All very much in the public eye. The proprietor has too much good name to risk losing it—Besides, the thefts were carried out by minions, mere opportunism. And I was protected. I had my own security—’

‘I saw your house guests!’

‘Who did you see?’ Anacrites demanded.

‘Your dilatory agents, playing board games in a back-corridor hole . . .’ Some flicker disturbed his carefully cultivated, steady gaze. If I understood that half-hidden reaction, the Melitans were in for a nasty half hour when he next saw them. He could be vindictive. If they didn’t know that already, they were about to find out. ‘I meant, was a suggestion from Laeta safe for you, dear boy?’ I gazed at him and shook my head slowly. ‘Given his well-known wish to winkle you out of office?’

The spy’s eyes widened.

‘No, he wouldn’t!’ I cried. ‘I’m being ridiculous. Laeta is a man of honour, he is above conspiracy. Forget I spoke.’ Although Anacrites had imposed iron control on his face muscles, I could see he now realised Laeta might have wrong-footed him.

He changed tack quickly. Gazing around the salon where I had been forced to entertain him, he noted the profusion of new bronze statuettes, polished expanding brazier tripods, fancy lamps suspended from branched candelabra. ‘Such lovely things, Falco! You’re very prosperous, since your father died. I wonder—does it affect your future?’

‘Will I give up informing?’ I laughed gaily. ‘No chance. You’ll never be rid of me.’

Anacrites smirked. All last night’s affability had dissolved with his hangover and he went on to the attack: ‘I’d say your new wealth exceeds due proportion. When a man receives more from Fortune than he should, winged Nemesis will come along and right the balance.’

‘Nemesis is a sweetie. She and I are old friends . . . Why don’t you come out straight and say you think I don’t deserve it?’

‘Not for me to judge. You don’t bother me, Falco. Compared with you, I’m fireproof.’