“But in that case,” said I, “as you can’t produce the body, neither of you can get the property.”

“I am not so sure of that,” he replied.  “If my brother is dead, it is pretty certain that he is not buried in St. George’s or any of the other places mentioned, and the fact can easily be proved by production of the registers.  So that a permission to presume death would result in the handing over to Hurst of almost the entire estate.”

“Who is the executor?” I asked.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “there is another muddle.  There are two executors; Jellicoe is one, and the other is the principal beneficiary—­Hurst or myself, as the case may be.  But, you see, neither of us can become an executor until the Court has decided which of us is the principal beneficiary.”

“But who is to apply to the Court?  I thought that was the business of the executors.”

“Exactly.  That is Hurst’s difficulty.  We were discussing it when you called the other day, and a very animated discussion it was,” he added, with a grim smile.  “You see, Jellicoe naturally refuses to move in the matter alone.  He says he must have the support of the other executor.  But Hurst is not at present the other executor; neither am I. But the two of us together are the co-executor, since the duty devolves upon one or other of us, in any case.”

“It’s a complicated position,” I said.

“It is; and the complication has elicited a very curious proposal from Hurst.  He points out—­quite correctly, I am afraid—­that as the conditions as to burial have not been complied with, the property must come to him, and he proposes a very neat little arrangement, which is this:  That I shall support him and Jellicoe in their application for permission to presume death and administer the will, and that he shall pay me four hundred a year for life; the arrangement to hold good in all eventualities.”

“What does he mean by that?”

“He means,” said Bellingham, fixing me with a ferocious scowl, “that if the body should turn up at any future time, so that the conditions as to burial should be able to be carried out, he should still retain the property and pay me the four hundred a year.”

“The deuce!” said I.  “He seems to know how to drive a bargain.”

“His position is that he stands to lose four hundred a year for the term of my life if the body is never found, and he ought to stand to win if it is.”

“And I gather that you have refused his offer?”

“Yes; very emphatically, and my daughter agrees with me; but I am not sure that I have done the right thing.  A man should think twice, I suppose, before he burns his boats.”

“Have you spoken to Mr. Jellicoe about the matter?”

“Yes, I have been to see him to-day.  He is a cautious man, and he doesn’t advise me one way or the other.  But I think he disapproves of my refusal; in fact, he remarked that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, especially when the whereabouts of the bush is unknown.”