But"-- Jimmie Dale pulled out his watch, and yawned under his mask--"it's getting to be an unconscionable hour--and you've still a letter to write." "A letter ?" Wilbur's voice was broken, his lips quivering.
"To Markel," said Jimmie Dale pleasantly.

"Write him in reply to his letter of the afternoon, and post it before you leave here--just as though you had written it at once, promptly, on receipt of his.

He will still get it on the morning delivery.

State that you will take up the note immediately on presentation at whatever bank he chooses to name.
That's all.

Seeing that he hasn't got it, he can't very well present it--can he?
Eventually, having--er--no use for fake diamonds, I shall return the necklace, together with the papers in his cash box here--including your note." "Eventually ?" Uncomprehendingly, stumblingly, Wilbur repeated the word.
"In a month or two or three, as the case may be," explained Jimmie Dale brightly.