Her manner was eloquent of the business they had at hand and reminiscent of nothing personal in their relations. Her thoughtfulness in arming him was merely a matter of self-protection, her trust in him was a matter of necessity for had she not already given him the numbers of the combination? He followed her quietly. They stole along the outside wall in single file, making a complete detour of the garden until they reached a clump of shrubbery near the spot where Rowland had come over the wall. There they followed a well-worn path into the bushes and were confronted by a mound of earth, in the face of which was an iron door. Here Tanya paused, brought forth a key and in a moment led the way down a flight of steps underground. It was pitch black below but Tanya who seemed to have thought of everything brought out from the folds of her gown an electric pocket lamp which she turned into the passage-way before them, at the end of which Rowland made out a steel door with a shining nickel knob and a handle.
"The vault, Monsieur Rowlan'," she said coolly. "It is of American manufacture. Doubtless you are familiar----"
She was looking at him as she spoke, and her eyes for the moment drove all thought of numbers from his head. He caught at her hand.
"Mademoiselle--before we go on, tell me that you've forgiven me. I was but serving your cause----"
She shrugged away from him and flashed the light upon the shining metal knob of the vault door.
"Serve it here, then," she said quickly. "There!--The numbers, Droite--Gauche----"
She was quite relentless. He chose to think her repudiation of him the measure of her own purity and with a last look at her fine profile bent forward and fingered the metal knob.
"Gauche 72----" he muttered and paused.
"Droite, Monsieur!" she said sharply. "Do you mean to say that you have forgotten?"
"If you would be kind to me, Mademoiselle----" he pleaded smiling, "perhaps I could remember better."