“Hold on,” said Bentley, with a knowing grin. “You hadn’t better do that.”
“Why not?”
“How are you going to satisfy Sterndale that the letter this came from was sent to Renwood? Renwood’s name is not mentioned. He may simply refuse to believe that fellow knows anything about it, and you’ll simply balk yourself.”
“Well, what am I to do?” exclaimed the doctor’s son, after a moment of silence. “Sterndale will have to believe it, that’s all. If he doesn’t, he’s a bigger fool than I take him to be.”
“But we might just as well fix it so he can’t help believing, even if he wanted to.”
“How can that be done?”
“Why, it’s dead easy. I’ve got some samples of Renwood’s handwriting here, and I rather think I can get up a reply to that letter that will fool anybody.”
“That would be forgery.”
“No more than the note you took to old Alden. Besides that, it would be for a good purpose, so there wouldn’t be anything wrong in it. I tell you, it’s the only way to do Renwood up good and solid.”
“What’ll you do with the letter after it’s written?”