"It probably is at that," said Padway. He wrote the names and addresses in his date-book. "How about a banker?"
"I don't have much truck with them; hate the idea of getting in debt. But if you want the name of one, there's Thomasus the Syrian, near the AEmilian Bridge. Keep your eyes open if you deal with him."
"Why, isn't he honest?"
"Thomasus? Sure he's honest. You just have to watch him, that's all. Here, this looks like a place you could stay." Nevitta pounded on the door, which was opened by a frowsy superintendent.
This man had a room, yes. It was small and ill-lighted. It smelled. But then so did all of Rome. The superintendent wanted seven sesterces a day.
"Offer him half," said Nevitta to Padway in a stage whisper.
Padway did. The superintendent acted as bored by the ensuing haggling as Padway was. Padway got the room for five sesterces.
Nevitta squeezed Padway's hand in his large red paw. "Don't forget, Martmus, come see me some time. I always like to hear a man who speaks Latin with a worse accent than mine, ha, ha!" He and Hermann mounted and trotted off.
Padway hated to see them go. But Nevitta had his own business to tend to. Padway watched the stocky figure round a corner, then entered the gloomy, creaking boarding house.