"Oh!" she gasped. "This is no time to lose one's wits----"
"You've robbed me of all I ever had----"
"Monsieur Rowlan'," she whispered in anguish, "the numbers!"
"Say that you forgive me, Mademoiselle," he pleaded again, turning toward her.
She threw out her arms and the light of the torch went out.
"Mademoiselle," he was whispering. "Forgive----"
The light of the torch flared suddenly, full on his face. She had moved a pace away from him and the cowl had fallen from her head, but her eyes were studying his face intently.
"Forgive!" he repeated, smiling eagerly.
Something in his expression may have satisfied her, for she thrust out her hand to meet his own.
"Yes, yes," she muttered hurriedly. "I forgive." And suddenly switched the light upon the door of the vault. "And now the numbers."