"Just you look out!" cried Flint. "You haven't heard the last of this! You may be executor or it may be a lie. You may have the will or you may not; anyway I know better than to run the risk of putting myself in the wrong now. But I'll watch you, and I'll watch this house, and I'll be about when the will comes to be proved! And if that ain't done quick, I'll apply for administration myself, and see the thing through!" III Samuel Greer sheered off as the cousinly interview ended, well satisfied with himself. Ten pounds was a fortune to him, and he meant having a good deal more. He did nothing further till the following morning, when he presented himself at the shop of Jarvis Flint. "Good mornin', Mr. Flint," said Samuel Greer, grinning and squinting affably. "I couldn't help noticin' as you had a few words yesterday with Mr. Cater after the sad loss." "Well?" "It 'appens as I've seen the will as Mr. Cater was talkin' of, an' I thought p'raps it 'ud save you makin' mistakes if I told you of it." "What about it?" Jarvis Flint was not disposed to accept Greer altogether on trust. "Well it _do_ seem a scandalous thing, certainly, but what Mr. Cater said was right. He _do_ take the personal property, subjick to debts, an' he do take the freehold prim'ses. An' he is the 'xecutor." "Was the will witnessed?" "Yes--two waterside chaps well know'd there-abouts." "Was it made by a lawyer?" "No--all in the lamented corpse's 'andwritin'." "Umph!" Flint maintained his hard stare in Greer's face. "Anything else?" "Well, no, Mr. Flint, sir, p'raps not. But I wonder if there might be sich a thing as a codicil?" "Is there?" "Oh, I was a-wonderin', that's all. It might make a deal o' difference in the will, mightn't it? And p'raps Mr. Cater mightn't know anythink about the codicil." "What do you mean? Is there a codicil?" "Well, reely, Mr. Flint," answered Greer with a deprecatory grin--"reely it ain't business to give information for nothink, is it?" "Business or not, if you know anything you'll find you'll have to tell it. I'm not going to let Cater have it all his own way, if he _is_ executor. My lawyer'll be on the job before you're a day older, my man, and you won't find it pay to keep things too quiet." "But it can't pay worse than to give information for nothink," persisted Greer. "Come, now, Mr. Flint, s'pose (I don't say there is, mind--I only say _s'pose_)--s'pose there _was_ a codicil, and s'pose that codicil meant a matter of a few thousand pound in your pocket. And s'pose some person could tell you where to put your hand on that codicil, what might you be disposed to pay that person?" "Bring me the codicil," answered Flint, "and if it's all right I'll give you--well, say five shillings."