So stop worrying; you're in no danger at all from arrest for forgery or fraud.

There'll never be a peep from any of them." This seemed sound reasoning, but Mrs.De Peyster did not acknowledge herself comforted.
"Besides," Mr.Pyecroft went on, with a sudden flash of wrathful contempt, "if there's anybody under God's sun I like to slip something over on it's those damned vermin of private detectives! And the swells that employ them! I hope that Mrs.Allistair gets stung good and plenty!" "But Mrs.De Peyster!" wailed that lady--she couldn't help it, though she tried to keep inarticulate her sense of complete annihilation.
"When they publish that letter the damage will have been done.

It's a forgery, but nobody will believe her when she says so, and she can't prove it! She'll be ruined!" "Well," Mr.Pyecroft commented casually, "I don't see where that bothers us.

She's pretty much of a stiff, too, and I wouldn't mind handing her one while we're at it.

But, Lord, this won't hurt her a bit." Mrs.De Peyster sat suddenly upright.
"Not hurt her ?" "Didn't I tell you ?" chortled Mr.Pyecroft.