"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."
"What's the law that says I must give it up to you, 'stead of yer cousin? If there's a will it may say anythin'—in yer favour or out of it. If there ain't, you'll git 'alf. The will might give you more, or it might give you less, or it might give you nothink. Twenty pound for first look at it 'fore Flint comes in, and do what you like with it 'fore he knows anythink about it."
Again the knocking came at the door, this time supplemented by kicks.
"But I don't carry twenty pound about with me!" protested Cater, waving his fists, "Give me the will and come to my office for the money to-morrow!"
"No tick for this sort of job," answered Greer decisively. "Sorry I can't oblige you—I'm goin'
