The bearers put him down before the important firm of Flaccus and Sophus.

Out from the open, windowless office ran the senior partner, Sextus Fulvius Flaccus, a stout, comfortable, rosy-faced old eques, who had half Rome as his financial clients, the other half in his debt.

Many were his congratulations upon Drusus's manly growth, and many more upon the windfall of Vibulanus's fortune, which, as he declared, was too securely conveyed to the young man to be open to any legal attack.
But when Drusus intimated that he expected soon to invite the good man to his marriage feast, Flaccus shook his head.
"You will never get a sesterce of Cornelia's dowry," he declared.

"Her uncle Lentulus Crus is head over ears in debt.

Nothing can save him, unless--" "I don't understand you," said the other.
"Well," continued Flaccus, "to be frank; unless there is nothing short of a revolution." "Will it come to that ?" demanded Drusus.
"Can't say," replied Flaccus, as if himself perplexed.