"Because," Cater went on, disregarding the reply, "if that's the case, the sooner you out with the information the better it'll be for you. Because there are ways of making people give up information of that sort for nothing." "Yes--o' course," replied the imperturbable Greer. "O' course there is. An' quite right too. Ah, it's a fine thing is the lawr--a mighty fine thing!" The cab rattled over the stones of Bermondsey Wall, and the two alighted at the door through which old Jerry Cater was soon to come feet first. Sinclair was back, much disturbed and anxious. At sight of Paul Cater the poor fellow, weak and broken-spirited, left the house as quietly as he might. For years of grinding habit had inured him to the belief that in reality old Cater had treated him rather well, and now he feared the probable action of the heirs. "Who was that?" asked Paul Cater of Greer. "Wasn't it the clerk that owed my uncle the money?" Greer nodded. "Then he's not to come here again--do you hear? I'll take charge of the books and things. As to the debt--well, I'll see about that after. And now look here." Paul Cater stood before Greer and spoke with decision. "About that will, now. Bring it." Greer was not to be bluffed. "Where from?" he asked innocently. "Will you stand there and tell me you don't know where it is?" "Maybe I'd best stand here and tell you what pays me best." "Pay you? How much more do you want? Bring me that will, or I'll have you in gaol for stealing it!" "Lor!" answered Greer composedly, conscious of holding another trump as well as the will. "Why, if there _was_ anybody as knowed where the will was, and you talked to him as violent as that 'ere, why, you'd frighten him so much he'd as likely as not go out and get a price from your cousin, Mr. Flint. Whatever was in the will it might pay him to get hold of it." At this moment there came a furious knocking at the front door. "Why," Greer continued, "I bet that's him. It can't be nobody else--I bet the doctor's told him, or summat." They were on the first-floor landing, and Greer peeped from a broken-shuttered window that looked on the street. "Yes," he said, "that's Mr. Flint sure enough. Now, Mr. Paul Cater, business. Do you want to see that will before I let Mr. Flint in?" "Yes!" exclaimed Cater furiously, catching at his arm. "Quick--where is it?" "I want twenty pound." "Twenty pound! You're mad! What for?" "All right, if I'm mad, I'll go an' let Mr. Flint in." The knocking was repeated, louder and longer. "No," cried Cater, getting in his way. "You know you mustn't conceal a will--that's law. Give it up."