"A spec?" asked Mr. Josiah Mandeville. "Isn't that rather rough on Aunt Maria?"
Quisanté looked surprised. "She gave it me, I haven't stolen it," he said with a laugh.
"She gave it you to live on, to keep up your position, I suppose."
"I don't think she made any conditions. And if I can make money, I'll give it back to her."
"Oh, you know best, I suppose," said Mandeville. "Only if I lose it?"
"Losing money's no worse than spending it." And then he mentioned a certain venture in which the money might usefully be employed.
"How did you hear of that?" asked Mandeville with a stare; for his cousin had laid his finger on a secret, on the very secret which Mandeville had just decided not to reveal to him, kinsman though he was.
"I forget; somebody said something about it that made me think it would be a good thing." Quisanté's tone was vaguely puzzled; he often knew things when he could give no account of his knowledge.
"Well, you aren't far wrong. You'll take a small profit, I suppose? Shall I use my discretion?"
"No," smiled Quisanté. "I shan't take a small profit, and I'll use mine. But keep me well informed and you shan't be a loser."