“Why did Dupont—­or Popinot,” Lanyard persisted—­“murder de Lorgnes?  Why did he try to murder Mademoiselle Delorme?  Why did he seek to prevent our reaching Cherbourg?”

“Give you three guesses,” Phinuit offered amiably.  “But I warn you if you use more than one you’ll forfeit my respect forever.  And just to show what a good sport I am, I’ll ask you a few leading questions.  Why did Popinot pull off that little affair at Montpellier-le-Vieux?  Why did he try to put you out of his way a few days later?”

“Because he wanted to steal the jewels of Madame de Montalais, naturally.”

“I knew you’d guess it.”

“You admit, then, you have the jewels?”

“Why not?” Phinuit enquired coolly.  “We took trouble enough to get them, don’t you think?  You’re taking trouble enough to get them away from us, aren’t you?  You don’t want us to think you so stupid as to be wasting your time, do you?”

His imperturbable effrontery was so amusing that Lanyard laughed outright.  Then, turning to Liane, he offered her a grateful inclination of the head.

“Mademoiselle, you have kept your promise.  Many thanks.”

“Hello!” cried Phinuit.  “What promise?”

“Monsieur Lanyard desired a favour of me,” Liane explained, her good humour restored; “in return for saving me from assassination by Popinot this morning, he begged me to help him find the jewels of Madame de Montalais.  It appears that he—­or Andre Duchemin—­is accused of having stolen those jewels; so it becomes a point of honour with him to find and restore them to Madame de Montalais.”

“He told you that?” Monk queried, studiously eliminating from his tone the jeer implied by the words alone.

“But surely.  And what could I do?  He spoke so earnestly, I was touched.  Regard, moreover, how deeply I am indebted to him.  So I promised I would do my best.  Et voila!  I have brought him to the jewels; the rest is—­how do you say—­up to him.  Are you satisfied with the way I keep my word, monsieur?”

“It’s hard to see how he can have any kick coming,” Phinuit commented with some acidity.

Lanyard addressed himself to Liane:  “Do I understand the jewels are on this vessel?”

“In this room.”

Lanyard sat up and took intelligent notice of the room.  Phinuit chuckled, and consulted Monk in the tone of one reasonable man to his peer.

“I say, skipper:  don’t you think we ought to be liberal with Monsieur Lanyard?  He’s an awfully good sort—­and look’t all the services he has done us.”

Monk set the eyebrows to consider the proposition.

“I am emphatically of your mind, Phin,” he pronounced at length, oracular.

“It’s plain to be seen he wants those jewels—­means to have ’em.  Do you know any way we can keep them from him?”

Monk moved his head slowly from side to side:  “None.”

“Then you agree with me, it would save us all a heap of trouble to let him have them without any more stalling?”