“Yes, yes,” said Spini, cordially, “I can aim a ball.”
“It is true,” said Tito, with bland gravity; “and I should not have troubled you with my trivial remark on the Frate’s ability, but that you may see how this will heighten the credit of your success against him at Rome and at Milan, which is sure to serve you in good stead when the city comes to change its policy.”
“Well, thou art a good little demon, and shalt have good pay,” said Spini, patronisingly; whereupon he thought it only natural that the useful Greek adventurer should smile with gratification as he said—
“Of course, any advantage to me depends entirely on your—”
“We shall have our supper at my palace to-night,” interrupted Spini, with a significant nod and an affectionate pat on Tito’s shoulder, “and I shall expound the new scheme to them all.”
“Pardon, my magnificent patron,” said Tito; “the scheme 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.”