has been the
same from the first--it has never varied except in your memory. Are you
sure you have fast hold of it now?"

Spini rehearsed.

"One thing more," he said, as Tito was hastening away. "There is that
sharp-nosed notary, Ser Ceccone; he has been handy of late. Tell me,
you who can see a man wink when you're behind him, do you think I may go
on making use of him?"

Tito dared not say "No." He knew his companion too well to trust him
with advice when all Spini's vanity and self-interest were not engaged
in concealing the adviser.

"Doubtless," he answered, promptly. "I have nothing to say against
Ceccone."

That suggestion of the notary's intimate access to Spini caused Tito a
passing twinge, interrupting his amused satisfaction in the success with
which he made a tool of the man who fancied himself a patron. For he
had been rather afraid of Ser Ceccone. Tito's nature made him
peculiarly alive to circumstances that might be turned to his
disadvantage; his memory was much haunted by such possibilities,
stimulating him to contrivances by which he might ward them off. And it
was not likely that he should forget that October morning more than a
year ago, when Romola had appeared suddenly before him at the door of
Nello's shop, and had compelled him to declare his certainty that Fra
Girolamo was not going outside the gates. The fact that Ser Ceccone had
been a witness of that scene, together with Tito's perception that for
some reason or other he was an object of dislike to the notary, had
received a new importance from the recent turn of events. For after
having been implicated in the Medicean plots, and having found it
advisable in consequence to retire into the country for some time, Ser
Ceccone had of late, since his reappearance in the city, attached
himself to the Arrabbiati, and cultivated the patronage of Dolfo Spini.
Now that captain of the Compagnacci was much given, when in the company
of intimates, to confidential narrative about his own doings, and if Ser
Ceccone's powers of combination were sharpened by enmity, he might
gather some knowledge which he could use against Tito with very
unpleasant results.

It would be pitiable to be balked in well-conducted schemes by an
insignificant notary; to be lamed by the sting of an insect whom he had
offended unawares. "But," Tito said to himself, "the man's dislike to
me can be nothing deeper than the ill-humour of a dinnerless dog; I
shall conq