“Can't say I do. You're too high-up for me, with your legal slang. What does intestate mean?”
“Why, intestate—why, that means without having made a will. When a person dies without leaving a will, he is said to have died intestate.”
“Well, I guess my grandmother died intestate, then. I don't believe she left any will.”
“She didn't? Why, if she didn't leave a will—Oh! but she must have. Look here, Greg, this is serious. Are you sure she didn't?”
“O, no! of course I'm not sure. I never thought of the matter before, and so I can't be sure. But I don't believe she did.”
“But, Greg, if she didn't—if she didn't leave a will, disinheriting you, and bequeathing everything to Peter—man alive, what are you doing here in old Finkelstein's jewelry shop? Why, Greg, you're rich. You're absolute owner of half of her estate.”
“O, no! I'm perfectly sure she never did that. If she made any will at all, she didn't disinherit me, and give everything to Uncle Peter. She cared a great deal more for me than she did for Uncle Peter. I'm sure she never made a will favoring him above me. I always supposed that she had died, as you call it, intestate; and so, he being her son, the property had descended to him in the regular course of events.”
“But don't I tell you that it wouldn't have descended to him? It would have descended to both of you in equal shares. Here's the whole business in a nut-shell: either she did leave a will, cutting you off with a shilling; or else you're entitled to fifty cents in every dollar that she owned.”
“But I have never received a penny. If what you say is true, how do you account for that?”
“There's just the point. If your idea about the will is correct, your Uncle Peter must be a pretty rogue indeed. He's been playing a sharp game, Greg, and cheating you out of your rights. And we can make it hot enough for him, I tell you. We can compel him to divide up; and inside of a month you'll be rolling in wealth.”