‘A young fellow that is the pink of respectability, that never took a drop too much, nor went an inch out of the way in all his life! Lord, Montressor, think what it would be to be set down for life, to be overlooked by a fellow like that! to see in his eyes what he thought of you! I’m a poor wretch that can’t live without a laugh. I couldn’t, you know, if I were, as people used to say, within the ribs of death. I’ve made the best of things, and reasoned them out, and got a little fun out of them wherever I was. I know what would happen well enough. When I talked to him the other day, I was a sort of a strange beast to him that he was very sorry for. It nearly brought the tears into his eyes to hear me talk. I could almost tell you what he was thinking. “Poor beggar!” he was thinking, “it’s all wrong and horrible, but if it gives him a little consolation in his misery----” He was awfully kind.’ ‘He’s the kindest heart I ever came across,’ cried the actor, with an exaggeration which was very allowable in the circumstances, ‘and liberal as the day, and never forgets a friend.’ This May dismissed again with a wave of his hand as something outside of the question. ‘He was awfully kind. It looked like what you call the voice of nature on the stage, Montressor. One doesn’t often come across it anywhere else. Do you know he picked me up dr---- well, as the policemen say, a little the worse for liquor--in the street? Think of it, a young man that is the flower of respectability--that never consorted with the wicked. And after seeing me unadorned like that, and knowing where I came from, which Joe did his best to publish, taking me in, establishing me here, and giving me his papers to copy! By the way, I’m a little sorry about these papers,’ he went on. ‘Perhaps it was stretching a point to take them away--convey the wise it call--though they weren’t his, strictly speaking, you know; he hadn’t paid for them or made any bargain; but still a Puritanical person might say---- It was all that sophist Joe, a casuist born, though he doesn’t know a rule of logic. And then the ridiculous name of those engineer people caught my fancy. Spender & Diggs, don’t you know; it’s grotesque. That tempted me. But, perhaps, after all, it was stretching a point--the jury might say it was a breach of trust. I think I’ll go and get them back.’ ‘Me friend!’ cried Montressor, ‘there I see ye as I always liked to see ye--generous, whatever else.’ ‘Yes,’ said May, with some complacency, ‘I flatter myself I always was that; but few people knew the line to take with me. The talk has always been about justice. As if justice was a thing to be defined! If every man had his deserts, which of us would be uppermost, I wonder? Not those fellows in scarlet that sentence other men, or the pettifogging shopkeepers on a jury that know about as much of justice---- I think I’ll go and get those papers back.’