By way of answer Monk bent over and quietly opened a false door, made to resemble the fronts of three drawers, in a pedestal of his desk.  Lanyard couldn’t see the face of the built-in safe, but he could hear the spinning of the combination manipulated by Monk’s long and bony fingers.  And presently he saw Monk straighten up with a sizable steel dispatch-box in his hands, place this upon the desk, and unlock it with a key on his pocket ring.

“There,” he announced with an easy gesture.

Lanyard rose and stood over the desk, investigating the contents of the dispatch-box.  The collection of magnificent stones seemed to tally accurately with his mental memoranda of the descriptions furnished by Eve de Montalais.

“This seems to be right,” he said quietly, and closed the box.  The automatic lock snapped fast.

“Now what do you say, brother dear?”

“Your debt to me is fully discharged, Liane.  But, messieurs, one question:  Knowing I am determined to restore these jewels to their owner, why this open handedness?”

“Cards on the table,” said Phinuit.  “It’s the only way to deal with the likes of you.”

“In other words,” Monk interpreted:  “you have under your hand proof of our bona fides.”

“And what is to prevent me from going ashore with these at once?”

“Nothing,” said Phinuit.

“But this is too much!”

“Nothing,” Phinuit elaborated, “but your own good sense.”

“Ah!” said Lanyard—­“ah!”—­and looked from face to face.

Monk adjusted his eyebrows to an angle of earnestness and sincerity.

“The difficulty is, Mr. Lanyard,” he said persuasively, “they have cost us so much, those jewels, in time and money and exertion, we can hardly be expected to sit still and see you walk off with them and say never a word in protection of our own interests.  Therefore I must warn you, in the most friendly spirit:  if you succeed in making your escape from the Sybarite with the jewels, as you quite possibly may, it will be my duty as a law-abiding man to inform the police that Andre Duchemin is at large with his loot from the Chateau de Montalais.  And I don’t think you’d get very far, then, or that your fantastic story about meaning to return them would gain much credence.  D’ye see?”

“But distinctly!  If, however, I leave the jewels and lay an information against you with the police——?”

“To do that you would have to go ashore....”

“Do I understand I am to consider myself your prisoner?”

“Oh, dear, no!” said Captain Monk, inexpressibly pained by such crudity.  “But I do wish you’d consider favourably an invitation to be our honoured guest on the voyage to New York.  You won’t?  It would be so agreeable of you.”

“Sorry I must decline.  A prior engagement....”

“But you see, Lanyard,” Phinuit urged earnestly, “we’ve taken no end of a fancy to you.  We like you, really, for yourself alone.  And with that feeling the outgrowth of our very abbreviated acquaintance—­think what a friendship might come of a real opportunity to get to know one another well.”