The Accusers

XLVII

Time: afternoon.

Place: patrol house, Aventine.

Subject: conversation between L. Petronius Longus, Fourth Cohort of Vigiles, and M. Didius Falco, informer.

Mood: depressed.

`How was your morning?'

`Dire.'

`Procreus turn up?' `No.'

`Praetor see you?' `No.'

`Charges dropped?' `No.'

`Back again tomorrow?'

`Damn well have to. Any good news for me?'

`Sorry; no.'

`The Second made any progress?'

`No. Perseus is not found yet, and your steward's a no-go. He's a freedman. They can't touch him. They threatened him – but then he threatened them with appeal to the Emperor.'

`He could talk voluntarily.'

`He says no: he's too loyal.'

`Who's he loyal to?'

`He's too loyal to say.'

`Stuff him then. Stuff everything.'

`That's right. Take the tolerant view!'

`I'm off home.'

`Best thing, lad.'

`Thanks anyway.'

`That's all right. What are friends for?'