e. Then he turned about to Mrs. De
Peyster and Matilda, and his wide mouth twisted up and rightward into
that pagan, delighted smile of his. He laughed without noise; but
every cell of him was laughing.

"Well, sisters dear, we're cleaning up--eh! I had the devil's own time
matching that letter-paper at Brentanos', and I ran a pretty big risk
leaving the house--but, say, it was worth it!" For a moment he could
only laugh. "First, let's split the pile. I told you I was always
square with my pals. Here's a thousand for you, Angelica,"--slipping
two bills under Mrs. De Peyster's pillow,--"and a thousand for you,
Matilda,"--thrusting the amount into her hands,--"and a thousand for
your dear brother Archibald,"--slipping his share into a vest pocket.

Neither of the two women dared refuse the money.

"But--but," Mrs. De Peyster gasped thickly, "it's an outrageous
forgery!"

"A forgery, I grant you, my dear Angelica," Mr. Pyecroft said
good-humoredly. "But if by outrageous you mean crude or obvious, I
beg to correct you. Even if I must say it myself, that forgery was
strictly first-class."

"But it's a forgery!" repeated Mrs. De Peyster.

"My dears, don't you worry about that," he reassured them soothingly.
"There'll be no comeback. That detective and his agency, and Mrs.
Allistair behind them, first tried robbery, then tried bribery.
They're all in bad themselves. 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?"