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 château. 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."