"Quisante's line has been to take absolutely no notice of the whole thing," said Jimmy. "He knows nothing about it, and has had nothing to do with its being brought forward; he's never mentioned it, and he won't. But on the other hand he doesn't feel called upon to fight Mildmay's battle, or to offend his own supporters by defending a man who won't defend himself. As for this business about Lady Mildmay, if Mildmay likes to make such an ass of himself he must take the consequences." The Dean felt that the Quisante case even put thus bluntly by Jimmy was very strong; Quisante's deft tongue and skilful brain could make it appear irresistible. Strategically retiring from the ground of strict justice, he made an appeal to the feelings. "Surely neither Mr. Quisante himself nor any of you would wish to win through such an occurrence as this? That would be no satisfaction to you." "Of course we'd rather win without it," said Jimmy irritably. "It's not our fault. Go to Japhet Williams, or, best of all, persuade Mildmay not to be a fool. Why won't he answer?" "Have you had any talk with Quisante about it?" "Very little. He thinks pretty much what I've said." "Or with Lady May?" asked the Dean with a direct glance. "She's never mentioned it to me." "The whole affair is deplorable." "I don't see what we can do." Jimmy's tone was rather defiant. The Dean fell into thought and, as the result thereof, made a proposition; it was very much that suggestion to Quisante on which Sir Winterton had frowned so scornfully. "If," said he, "I could persuade Sir Winterton to give Mr. Quisante a private assurance that the scandal is entirely baseless, would Mr. Quisante state publicly that he was convinced of its falsity and did not wish it to influence the electors in any way?" "Perhaps he would," said Jimmy. "I think it would be only the proper thing for him to do," said the Dean rather warmly. "I don't know about that. Why can't Mildmay say it for himself? But I'll ask Quisante, if you like." The Dean was only too conscious of the weakness of his cause; he became humble again in thanking Jimmy for this small promise. "And Mr. Quisante'll be glad to have done it, I know, whatever the issue of the fight may be," he ended. The remark received for answer no more than a smile from Jimmy. Jimmy was not sure that among the stress of emotions filling Quisante's heart in case of defeat there would be room for any consoling consciousness of moral rectitude. Perhaps Jimmy himself would not care much about such a solatium. He wanted to win and he wanted Quisante to win; such was the effect of being much with Quisante; and in this matter at least, so far as Jimmy's knowledge went, his champion had acted with perfect correctness. At other times Jimmy might have been, like Sir Winterton, apt to exact something a little beyond correctness, but now the spirit of the fight was on him.