“Well, Major,” replied his informant, “what I mean is this here. Some men would hold out in my place, and I’ve seen the day when my information was worth as much as my neighbours’; but when I’ve to do with a real gent, why, I trusts to him, and he gives _what he pleases_. Now, Major, look at that there house--it’s a good house up-stairs and down, fixtures and furniture all complete, I make no doubt--Major, there’s _a man of straw_ in that house.” Mr. Fibbes paused, having delivered himself of this oracular piece of information; but, finding his listener less interested in the discovery of the artificial stranger than he had reason to expect, he proceeded in his own way to clear up his metaphor. “What I says is this--a bargain’s a bargain; now the young woman as owns that house has got _the boot on the other leg_--my information’s _good_, Major, you may depend on it; there’s another horse in the stable, sir--there’s a young gent as owns all the property they keep such a talk about; I won’t ask ye to believe my naked word, Major” (such a request, indeed, would have been superfluous), “but what should you say if I was to tell you--I’ve spoke to the party as has _seen the will_?” “Why, I should say that if you have any information that is really well-authenticated, I’ll pay you fairly for it, as I always have done,” replied D’Orville, unmoved as usual, though in his innermost heart a tide of doubts and hopes and fears was swelling up, in strange tumultuous confusion. “Well, Major,” whispered his informant, “as far as I can learn, for I ain’t no scholar, you know--but _as_ far as I can learn, there’s been a will found, and by that will the young lady as owns this here house don’t own it by rights, and can’t keep it much longer. There’s a old gentleman as lives here, rayther a crusty old gentleman, so my mate tells _me_, and he knows _nothing_ good or bad; but it stands just as I’ve said, you may depend; and instead of Miss Kettering, if that’s her name, being such a grand lady, why she’s no better off than I am, and that’s _where_ it is. My mate wouldn’t deceive _me_ no more than I’m deceivin’ you. Thank ye, Major, you always was a real gentleman; thank you, sir, and good-day to you. You won’t come up and take a look at Jessie?” So saying, Mr. Fibbes put his dirty hand, not quite empty, however, into his pocket, and with a snatch at his rough hat, and an awkward obeisance, took his departure, his linen jacket and ankle-boots fading gradually in the direction of the nearest public-house, whither he proceeded incontinently to “wet his luck,” after the manner of his kind.