VI

So much for the first half of Dorrington's operation. For the second

half he made no immediate hurry. If he had been aware of Samuel

Greer's movements and Lugg's little plot he might have hurried, but as

it was he busied himself in setting up on a more respectable scale by

help of his newly-acquired money. But he did not long delay. He had the

attested copy of the codicil, which would be as good as the original if

properly backed with evidence in a court of law. The astute Cater, wise

in his own conceit, just as was his equally astute cousin Flint, had

clean overlooked the possibility of such a trick as this. And now all

Dorrington had to do was to sell the copy for one more thousand pounds

to Jarvis Flint.

It was on the morning of old Jerry Cater's funeral that he made his

way to Deptford to do this, and he chuckled as he reflected on the

probable surprise of Flint, who doubtless wondered what had become of

his sweated inquiry agent, when confronted with his offer. But when

he arrived at the ship-store shop he found that Flint was out, so he

resolved to call again in the evening.

At that moment Jarvis Flint, Samuel Greer, and Lugg the lawyer were at

the house in Bermondsey Wall attacking Paul Cater. Greer, foreseeing

probable defiance by Cater from a window, had led the party in by the

wharf door and so had taken Cater by surprise. Cater was in a suit of

decent black, as befitted the occasion, and he received the news of the

existence of a copy of the codicil he had destroyed with equal fury and

apprehension.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "What do you mean? I'm not to be

bluffed like this! You talk about a codicil--where is it? Where is it,

eh?"

"My dear sir," said Lugg peaceably--he was a small, snuffy man--"we are

not here to make disturbances or quarrels, or breaches of the peace; we

are here on a strictly business errand, and I assure you it will be for

your best interests if you listen quietly to what we have to say. Ahem!

It seems that Mr. Samuel Greer here has frequently seen the codicil----"

"Greer's a rascal--a thief--a scoundrel!" cried the irate Cater,

shaking his fist in the thick of Greer's squint. "He swindled me out of

ten pounds! He----"

"Really, Mr. Cater," Lugg interposed, "you do no good by such

outbursts, and you prevent my putting the case before you. As I was

saying, Mr. Greer has frequently seen the codicil, and saw it, indeed,

on the very day of the late Mr. Cater's decease. You may not have

come across it, and, indeed, there may be some temporary difficulty

in finding the original. But fortunately Mr. Greer took notes of the

contents and of the witnesses' names, and from those notes I have

been able to draw up this statement, which Mr. Greer is prepared to

subscribe to, by affidavit or declaration, if by any chance you may be

unable to produce the original codicil."

Cater, seeing his thousand pounds to Dorrington going for nothing, and

now confronted with the fear of losing ten thousand pounds more, could

scarce speak for rage. "Greer's a liar, I tell you!" he spluttered

out. "A liar, a thief, a scoundrel! His word--his affidavit--his

oath--anything of his--isn't worth a straw!"

"That, my dear sir," Lugg proceeded equably, "is a thing that may

remain for the probate court, and possibly a jury, to decide upon.

In the meantime permit me to suggest that it will be better for all

parties--cheaper in fact--if this matter be settled out of court. I

think, if you will give the matter a little calm and unbiassed thought,

you will admit that the balance of strength is altogether with our

case. Would you like to look at the statement? Its effect, you will

see, is, roughly speaking, to give my client a legacy of say about

ten thousand pounds in value. The witnesses are easily produced, and

really, I must say, for my part, if Mr. Greer, who has nothing to gain

or lose either way, is prepared to take the serious responsibility of

swearing a declaration----"

"I don't believe he will!" cried Cater, catching at the straw. "I don't

believe he will. Mind, Greer," he went on, "there's penal servitude for

perjury!"

"Yes," Greer answered, speaking for the first time, with a squint and a

chuckle, "so there is. And for stealin' an' suppressin' dockyments, I'm

told. I'm ready to make that 'ere declaration."

"I don't believe he is!" Cater said, with an attempt to affect

indifference. "And anyhow, I needn't take any notice of it till he

does."

"Well," said Lugg accommodatingly, "there need be no difficulty

or delay about that. The declaration's all written out, and I'm a

commissioner to administer oaths. I think that's a Bible I see on the

shelf there, isn't it?" He stepped across to where the old Bible had

lain since Greer flung it there, just before Jerry Cater's death. He

took the book down and opened it at the title-page. "Yes," he said, "a

Bible; and now--why--what? what?"

Mr. Lugg stood suddenly still and stared at the fly-leaf. Then he said

quietly, "Let me see, it was on Monday last that Mr. Cater died, was it

not?"

"Yes."

"Late in the afternoon?"

"Yes."

"Then, gentlemen, you must please prepare yourselves for a surprise.

Mr. Cater evidently made another will, revoking all previous wills and

codicils, on the very day of his death. And here it is!" He extended

the Bible before him, and it was plain to see that the fly-leaf was

covered with the weak, straggling handwriting of old Jerry Cater--a

little weaker and a little more straggling than that in the other will,

but unmistakably his.

Flint stared, perplexed and bewildered, Greer scratched his head and

squinted blankly at the lawyer. Paul Cater passed his hand across his

forehead and seized a tuft of hair over one temple as though he would

pull it out. The only book in the house that he had not opened or

looked at during his stay was the Bible.

"The thing is very short," Lugg went on, inclining the writing to the

light. "'_This is the last will and testament of me, Jeremiah Cater, of

Cater's Wharf. I give and bequeath the whole of the estate and property

of which I may die possessed, whether real or personal, entirely and

absolutely to--to--_' what is the name? Oh yes--'_to Henry Sinclair, my

clerk----_'"

"What?" yelled Cater and Flint in chorus, each rising and clutching at

the Bible. "Not Sinclair! No! Let me see!"

"I think, gentlemen," said the solicitor, putting their hands aside,

"that you will get the information quickest by listening while I

read. '_----to Henry Sinclair, my clerk. And I appoint the said Henry

Sinclair my sole executor. And I wish it to be known that I do this,

not only by way of reward to an honest servant, and to recompense him

for his loss in loan transactions with me, but also to mark my sense

of the neglect of my two nephews. And I revoke all former wills and

codicils._' Then follows date and signature and the signatures of

witnesses--both apparently men of imperfect education."

"But you're mad--it's impossible!" exclaimed Cater, the first to find

his tongue. "He _couldn't_ have made a will then--he was too weak.

Greer knows he couldn't."

Greer, who understood better than anybody else present the allusion in

the will to the nephews' neglect, coughed dubiously, and said, "Well,

he did get up while I was out. An' when I got back he had the Bible

beside him, an' he seemed pretty well knocked up with something. An'

the winder was wide open--I expect he opened it to holler out as well

as he could to some chaps on the wharf or somewhere to come up by the

wharf door and do the witnessing. An' now I think of it I expect he

sent me out a-purpose in case--well, in case if I knowed I might get up

to summat with the will. He told me not to hurry. An' I expect he about

used himself up with the writin' an' the hollerin' an' the cold air an'

what not."

Cater and Flint, greatly abashed, exchanged a rapid glance. Then Cater,

with a preliminary cough, said hesitatingly, "Well now, Mr. Lugg, let

us consider this. It seems quite evident to me--and no doubt it will

to you, as my cousin's solicitor--it seems quite evident to me that

my poor uncle could not have been in a sound state of mind when he

made this very ridiculous will. Quite apart from all questions of

genuineness, I've no doubt that a court would set it aside. And in

view of that it would be very cruel to allow this poor man Sinclair

to suppose himself to be entitled to a great deal of money, only to

find himself disappointed and ruined after all. You'll agree with

that, I'm sure. So I think it will be best for all parties if we keep

this thing to ourselves, and just tear out that fly-leaf and burn it,

to save trouble. And on my part I shall be glad to admit the copy of

the codicil you have produced, and no doubt my cousin and I will be

prepared to pay you a fee which will compensate you for any loss of

business in actions--eh?"

Mr. Lugg was tempted, but he was no fool. Here was Samuel Greer at

his elbow knowing everything, and without a doubt, no matter how well

bribed, always ready to make more money by betraying the arrangement

to Sinclair. And that would mean inevitable ruin to Lugg himself, and

probably a dose of gaol. So he shook his head virtuously and said,

"I couldn't think of anything of the sort, Mr. Cater, not for an

instant. I am a solicitor, and I have my strict duties. It is my duty

immediately to place this will in the hands of Mr. Henry Sinclair, as

sole executor. I wish you a good-day, gentlemen."

And so it was that old Jerry Cater's money came at last to Sinclair.

And the result was a joyful one, not only for Sinclair and his wife,

but also for a number of poor debtors whose "paper" was part of the

property. For Sinclair knew the plight of these wretches by personal

experience, and was merciful, as neither Flint nor Paul Cater would

have been. The two witnesses to the Bible will turned out to be

bargemen. They had been mightily surprised to be hailed from Jerry

Cater's window by the old man himself, already looking like a corpse.

They had come up, however, at his request, and had witnessed the will,

though neither knew anything of its contents. But they were ready to

testify that it was written in a Bible, that they saw Cater sign it,

and that the attesting signatures were theirs. They had helped the old

man back into bed, and next day they heard that he was dead.

As for Dorrington, he had a thousand pounds to set him up in a

gentlemanly line of business and villainy. Ignorant of what had

happened, he attempted to tap Flint for another thousand pounds as he

had designed, but was met with revilings and an explanation. Seeing

that the game was finished, Dorrington laughed at both the cousins and

turned his attention to his next case.

And old Jerry Cater's funeral was attended, as nobody would have

expected, by two very genuine mourners--Paul Cater and Jarvis Flint.

But they mourned, not the old man, but his lost fortune, and Paul Cater

also mourned a sum of one thousand and ten pounds of his own. They had

followed Lugg to the door when he walked off with the Bible in hope

to persuade him, but he saw a wealthy client in prospect in Mr. Henry

Sinclair, and would not allow his virtue to be shaken.

Samuel Greer walked away from the old house in moody case. Plainly

there were no more pickings available from old Jerry Cater's wills

and codicils. As he trudged by St. Saviour's Dock he was suddenly

confronted by a large navvy with a black eye. The navvy stooped and

inspected a peacock's feather-eye that adorned the band of the hat

Greer was wearing. Then he calmly grabbed and inspected the hat

itself, inside and outside. "Why, blow me if this ain't my 'at!" said

the navvy. "Take that, ye dirty squintin' thief! And that too! And

that!"