Parker rang a bell, and requested the attendance of Mr. Collins.
"Nice fat sums involved, from the looks of it," he went on, scanning the sheet of notes appreciatively. "£150,000 to R., £300,000 to G.—lucky G.—who's G? £20,000 here and £50,000 there. Who's your rich friend, Peter?"
"It's that long story I was going to tell you about when you'd finished your crate problem."
"Oh, is it? Then I'll make a point of solving the crate without delay. As a matter of fact, I'm rather expecting to hear something about it before long. That's why I'm here, dancing attendance on the 'phone. Oh, Collins, this is Lord Peter Wimsey, who wants very much to know whether these two handwritings are the same."
The expert took up the paper and the cheques and looked them over attentively.
"Not a doubt about it, I should say, unless the forgery has been astonishingly well done. Some of the figures, especially, are highly characteristic. The fives, for instance and the threes, and the fours, made all of a piece with the two little loops. It's a very old-fashioned handwriting, and made by a very old man, in not too-good health, especially this sheet of notes. Is that the old Fentiman who died the other day?"
"Well, it is, but you needn't shout about it. It's just a private matter."
"Just so. Well, I should say you need have no doubt about the authenticity of that bit of paper, if that's what you are thinking of."
"Thanks. That's precisely what I do want to know. I don't think there's the slightest question of forgery or anything. In fact, it was just whether we could look on these rough notes as a guide to his wishes. Nothing more."
"Oh, yes, if you rule out forgery, I'd answer for it any day that the same person wrote all these cheques and the notes."