"Maybe it is, but if it happens that Hill didn't give his name and address to the cop, the fact will queer that whole letter."
"I allow Hank is right, Gerald," chimed in Katz, "This here is one of them cases where you can't be too careful. Reckon I'd write another letter and change that."
"It's not necessary," insisted Gerald. "Hill was stunned. If he can't remember giving his name and address to the policeman, he'll think he did it at a time when he didn't know what he was doing. The letter goes as I have written it."
Gerald began addressing the envelope. Both the sheet of paper and the envelope were plain, and bore no clew of the hotel in which they had been written.
The letter was folded, thrust into the envelope, and the envelope sealed and stamped.
"It's dinner time, fellows," announced Gerald, "and we'll post this on our way to the noon eats. Come on."
They all got up and left the room.
"When do we hike for the island, Gerald?" asked Katz, as they went downstairs.
"We'll pull out for San Pedro to-morrow, and catch the morning boat," was the reply. "We want to wind up our business with Lopez and clear out before Hill discovers that letter is a fake and gets back from San Diego. We can turn the trick with ground to spare–don't fret about that."