hough not
unpromising, speculation. Whether he would win or lose was still
uncertain; Mandeville had hopes.

"And I don't know that it's exactly dishonest," said Aunt Maria
meditatively. "But that's just like Sandro. He's always doing things that
you can't be quite sure about--whether they're straight or not, you know.
He was just the same as a boy."

May had a sense of treachery in listening, but how should she not listen?
Morewood's opinion came into her memory. Miss Quisante was confirming it
out of her full acquaintance with its subject.

"I gave him the money, it was his own, I've got nothing to show," said
Miss Quisante with her vinegary little smile.

"Perhaps he--he misunderstood what you meant; I mean, that you intended
the money for any special purpose."

"That's exactly what he'll say," remarked Aunt Maria with a triumphant
nod.

"But if it's true----"

"I shan't know whether it's true or not. That's where Sandro's cleverness
comes in."

It was hard to realise that the old lady talked of the man whom her
hearer had seen on Duty Hill.

"I'm sure you don't do him justice." The plea sounded weak even to its
utterer.

"To an ounce," said Aunt Maria emphatically. May laughed. "I lived with
him for twelve years, and I'm not a fool any more than he is. If you ask
him about me, you'll get the truth, and you get it when you ask me about
him. After twelve years I ought to know."

"You've read his speech?" May asked. "Isn't it magnificent, parts of it
anyhow?"

"Very few men have a brain like Sandro's."

"There I agree with you, Miss Quisante." But May's face was troubled as
she added, a moment later, "He ought to give you back your money,
though."

"He will, if he makes a lot out of it, and he'll give me a nice present
too. Then he'll feel that he's acted quite properly all through. And if
he loses it--well, as I say, he's got his case, and I can't prove
anything."

"Men like him are often careless about money affairs. It's only that, I
expect."

"Careless! Sandro careless! Oh, dear me, no." and for once Miss Quisante
laughed heartily. The beads on her cap shook as her dumpy little form
swayed gently with mirth; she looked impishly delighted at such a
misconception of her nephew's character. May felt very foolish, but could
not help laughing herself.

"Well, I won't plead his cause any more," she said. "Only I believe
you're prejudiced." She paused, and then, looking the old woman in the
face,