Sassi nodded gravely.  Then he looked keenly at the young man, and asked him a question.

“May I enquire why you take an interest in Donna Sabina Conti?”

Malipieri returned the other’s gaze quietly.

“I am an architect, called in by the Senator to superintend some work on the palace.  The Senator, as you know, took over the building when he foreclosed the mortgage, and he has not yet sold it, though he has refused several good offers.  I have an idea that he believes it to be very valuable property.  If this should turn out to be true, and if he should have made a very profitable transaction, he ought in honour, if not in law, to make over a part of the profits to Donna Sabina, who has practically been cheated of her share in her father’s estate.  Her mother, and her brother and sister, spent everything they could lay hands on, whereas she never had anything.  Is that true?”

“Quite true, quite true,” repeated Sassi sadly.

“And if Donna Sabina were to call them to account, I fancy the law would take a rather unpleasant view of what they did.  I have heard that sort of thing called stealing when the persons who did it were not princes and princesses, but plain people like you and me.  Do you happen to think of any better word?”

Sassi was silent.  He had eaten the bread of the Conti all his life.  He glanced at the faded photograph of the Prince, as if to explain, and Malipieri understood.

“You are an honorable man,” he said.  “I can no more tell you why I wish to help Donna Sabina to her rights, if she has any, than I can explain a great many things I have done in my life.  When I see a dog kicked, I always kick the man, if I can, and I do not remember to have regretted any momentary unpleasantness that has followed in such cases.  I have only seen Donna Sabina once, but I mean to help her if possible.  Now tell me this.  Has she any legal claim in the value of the palace or not?”

“I am afraid not,” Sassi answered.

“Do you know whether she was ever induced to sign any release of her guardians?”

“She never did.”

“That might be bad for them.  That is all I wished to know.  Thank you.”

Malipieri rose to take his leave.

“If anything of importance happens, can you communicate with Donna Sabina?” he asked.

“I can write to her,” Sassi answered.  “I suppose she would receive me if I went to the house.”

“That would be better.”

“Excuse me,” said the old man, before opening the door to let his visitor out, “am I right in supposing that the work the Baron wishes done is connected with the foundations?”

“Yes.”

“At the north-west corner within the courtyard?”

“Yes,” answered Malipieri, looking at him attentively.  “Do you happen to know anything about the condition of that part of the palace?”

“Most people,” Sassi replied, “have now forgotten that a good deal of work was done there long ago, under Pope Gregory Sixteenth.”