Alexandria

Pastous watched me considering the grandeur of the furniture. 'The Librarian was called ''Director of the King's Library'' or ''Keeper of the Archives''.' He paused. 'Traditionally.' He meant, before the Romans came and finished the line of the Kings. I looked back over my shoulder at him, wondering if that rankled. It seemed impolite to ask.

'So how well did you know Theon?'

'He was my superior. We spoke often.'

'He thought well of you?'

''I believe so.'

'Are you prepared to tell me what you thought of him?'

Pastous ignored my invitation to be indiscreet. He replied formally, 'He was a great scholar, as all Librarians have been.'

'What was his discipline?' enquired Aulus.

I knew. 'Historian.' I turned to Pastous. 'Theon had dinner with us at my uncle's house last night and I asked him. To be honest, we found him hard going, socially'

'Well, you said he was a historian!' chortled Aulus, half under his breath.

'He was a shy man by nature,' Pastous exonerated his leader.

I defined him differently. I had thought Theon unfriendly, even arrogant. 'Not good for someone in his elevated position.'

'Theon would mingle with important people and overseas visitors when it was required,'' Pastous defended him.' He carried out his formal duties well.'

'He warmed up when the talk got on to the hippodrome! He seemed quite a racegoer.'

The assistant made no comment. I gathered he knew nothing of Theon's private interests. Equality within the Library went no further than the reading room. Outside, there was a social gap between officials and their staff which I imagined the gruff Theon had been happy to sustain.

'Where was the body found?'

'In his seat at his desk.'

Aulus took up a position there, facing the door, some ten feet away from it. He would see anyone who came in as soon as they opened the door. I looked around. The room had no other exits. It was lit by clerestory windows, high in one of the walls. Though they were unglazed, they had metal grilles, with very small spaces. Aulus then played dead, arms flung across the desk, head down on the wood.

Pastous, still in the doorway, looked nervous as the lordly young man occupied the chair. Ever an impatient type, Aulus soon moved, although not before he had sniffed the desk like an uncontrolled bloodhound. He left it and paced to the book cupboards, which he opened and closed one after another; their keys were in the locks, though whether they were locked or unlocked seemed random. Perhaps it was thought safe enough for the Librarian to lock his room when he went out. Apparently aimless, Aulus lifted out one or two scrolls, then put them back askew, while gazing into the shelf spaces, inspecting their corners and staring up at their tops.

I stood beside the portentous desk. It held a small selection of writing styluses and pens on a tray, an inkwell, a stylus knife, a sand sifter. To my surprise, nothing bore the written word. Apart from the implements, which were shoved to one far corner, the surface was completely clear. 'Has anything been removed from this room today?'

Pastous shrugged; he clearly wondered why I asked.

'No handy suicide note?' chaffed Aulus. 'No hastily scrawled declaration of ''Chi did it!'' Written in blood, perhaps?'

'Chi?' I scoffed.

'Chi the unknown quantity. Chi marks the spot.'

'Ignore my assistant, Pastous. He is a wild man, reading law.'

'Ignore my brother-in-law,' Aulus retaliated.' He is an informer. They are uncultured and prejudiced – and boast about it. It is reasonable, Falco, to hope at least for a reminder saying ''meet Nemo after dark''.'

'Save us the Homeric references, Aulus. Theon's rather cosy office hardly equates to a Cyclops' cave with Odysseus calling himself ''Nobody'' and thinking it extremely clever. If Theon met with foul play, it was executed by Somebody.'

'Have any sheep been seen walking out of the Library with seagoing adventurers clinging to their wool?' Aulus merrily asked Pastous.

The library assistant winced as if he thought us a couple of clowns. I suspected he was more astute than he let on. He watched us closely enough to see that while we were fooling, both of us absorbed information from our surroundings. He was interested in our procedures. That curiosity was probably harmless, just natural to a man who worked with information. Still, you never know.

We asked him to find out where the corpse had been taken, thanked him again for his help and assured him we could be left to carry on by ourselves.

Once we were alone, we sobered up. I took a turn in Theon's chair. Aulus continued his search of the book cupboards. Nothing on the shelves caught his attention. He turned back to me.

'Something is missing, Aulus.'

He quirked up an eyebrow. We were quiet now. Thoughtful, businesslike, and serious. We assessed the room professionally, considering possibilities. 'Documents, for one thing. If Theon really came to work, where is the papyrus?'

Aulus breathed in slowly. 'Someone cleaned up. There is nothing significant in the scroll cupboards; not now.'

'What scrolls does he have?'

'Just a catalogue.'

'So, it yesterday's work involved documents, they have been snaffled. If it's relevant to how he died, we have to find them.'

'Perhaps there was no work.' Aulus had an imagination and was applying it for once. 'Maybe he was depressed, Marcus. Sat for a long time with an empty table in front of him, thinking about his sorrows – whatever they were. Stared into space until he could bear none of it any longer – and then committed suicide.'' We both imagined that silently. Reliving the last moments of a suicide is always unsettling. Aulus shivered. 'Perhaps he died naturally… Alternatives?'

I let a ghost of a smile hover. 'I won't tell Cassius, but his Sauce Alexandrian last night was heavy enough to give gripping indigestion. Maybe Theon sat here, unable to get his guts comfortable, until nature carried him off.'

Aulus shook his head. 'As sauces go it had, for my taste, too much pepper. A piquant little condiment. But hardly lethal, Marcus. Any other possibility?'

'One.'

'What?'

'Theon may not have come here for deskwork. Maybe he planned to meet someone. Your Nemo may have existed, Aulus. If so, we have the usual question: did anybody else see Theon's visitor?'

Aulus nodded. He was glum. Neither of us relished such an enquiry, given that hundreds of people worked here. If any of the staff or scholars was observant enough to notice who went to the Librarian's office (not a hope I relied upon), finding the witness among the rest would be difficult. Even if we succeeded, they might not be willing to tell us anything. We could waste a lot of time, yet never get anywhere. Besides, at night, with everywhere quiet and the back rooms deserted, any mysterious associate who knew how to tiptoe could have reached the Librarian without being noticed at all.

'Something else is missing,' I remarked.

Aulus gazed around the room and failed to work it out. I waved an arm. 'Look again, my boy.' Still no good. He was a senator's son and took too much for granted. His brown eyes were as wide set and good looking as Helena's, but he lacked his sister's rapid intelligence. He was merely bright. She was a genius. Helena would herself have spotted the omission, or when I asked the question she would have followed my train of thought doggedly until she worked it out.

I gave up and told him. 'No lamps, Aulus!'

IX

Following my lead, Aulus saw that indeed there were no oil lamps, no sconces, no freestanding candelabra. If this room really was just as it had been found, then Theon sat here at his desk, and died, in pitch darkness. More likely we were right earlier: someone had cleaned up.