“But surely not.”

“Well ... can’t be positive till I know you better....  I’m afraid you’ve got a tendency to overestimate the gullibility of people in general.  It’s either that, or....  No:  I don’t believe you’re intentionally hypocritical, or self-deceived, either.”

“But I don’t understand....”

“Remember your promise....  But you seem to think it easy to put it over on us, mademoiselle, the skipper and me.”

“But I assure you I have never had any such thought.”

“Then why this funny story of yours—­told with a straight face, too!—­about wanting to get hold of the Montalais loot simply to slip it back to its owner?”

Lanyard felt with a spasm of anger constrict his throat; and knew that the restraint he imposed upon his temper was betrayed in a reddened face.  Nevertheless his courteous smile persisted, his polite conversational tone was unchanged.

“Now you remind me of something.  I presume, Captain Monk, it’s not too late to send a note ashore to be posted?”

“Oh!” Monk’s eyebrows protested violently—­“a note!”

“On plain paper, in a plain envelope—­and I don’t in the least mind your reading it.”

The eyebrows appealed to Phinuit, and that worthy ruled:  “Under those conditions, I don’t see we can possibly object.”

Monk shrugged his brows back into place, found paper of the sort desired, even went so far as to dip the pen for Lanyard.

“You will sit at my desk, monsieur?”

“Many thanks.”

Under no more heading than the date, Lanyard wrote: 

“Dear Madame de Montalais:” 

“I have not forgotten my promise, but my days have been full since I left the chateau.  And even now I must be brief:  within an hour I sail for America, within a fortnight you may look for telegraphic advices from me, stating that your jewels are in my possession, and when I hope to be able to restore them to you.”

“Believe me, dear madame,”

“Devotedly your servant,

“Michael Lanyard.”

Monk read and in silence passed this communication over to Phinuit, while Lanyard addressed the envelope.

“Quite in order,” was Phinuit’s verdict, accompanied by a yawn.

Lanyard folded the note, sealed it in the envelope, and affixed a stamp supplied by Monk, who meanwhile rang for a steward.

“Take this ashore and post it at once,” he told the man who answered his summons.

“But seriously, Lanyard!” Phinuit protested with a pained expression....  “No:  I don’t get you at all.  What’s the use?”

“I have not deceived you, then?”

“Not so’s you’d notice it.”

“Alas!”—­Lanyard affected a sigh—­“for misspent effort!”

“Oh, all’s fair outside the law.  We don’t blame you for trying it on.  Only we value your respect too much to let you go on thinking we have fallen for that hokum.”