"You've feared him, Mademoiselle. He holds some threat over you. Today--tonight, I saw----"
"I fear him no longer, Monsieur Rowlan'--" she smiled confidently.
"Mademoiselle," said Rowland with boyish eagerness, "if you'll only tell me. Let me help you. I will----"
"No more violence, Monsieur. I shall deal with Grisha Khodkine in my own way."
She took the torch from his hand without a word and led him to a corner of the vault, where upon the lower shelf were a number of packages carefully wrapped in black oil-cloth.
"Bank notes," she said. "Each note of a thousand francs or its equivalent. There are twenty-five thousand of them."
"What shall we do with them? You have a plan?"
The girl nodded.
"It is arranged. We have no time to lose. Picard and Stepan are outside the wall. You will drop them over. I will show you."
And taking up several packages of oil-cloth she bade Rowland hold out his hands while she filled his arms.