"All that is nothing," whispered Fatia Negra, "nor do we want these things. Your ladyship has received a bill for 40,000 florins from your husband; give up that and swear that you will not say anything about it to anyone for three days so that we may have time to turn it into cash."
At the mention of the bill Henrietta felt her head reel, the blood stood still in her veins, she could scarce keep her feet. Her voice trembled as she lied to the robber denying that she had any such thing.
"We will search you, my lady, if you do not give it up voluntarily."
Henrietta persisted in her falsehood: "I have nothing upon me. I posted it in order that it might get to its destination more safely."
"My lady, you are only wasting our time. Turn round, take that steel netting out of your puffed sleeves and hand it over to us."
At these words, all the blood flew to Henrietta's head. It was no longer fear but the fury of despair that possessed her. It suddenly occurred to her that here was the man whom nobody had ever recognized; the man who had made so many people unhappy; who had robbed her husband and would now stifle her last hope of saving her brother from disgrace. Who could this terrible man, this accursed wretch, be? And so, as Black Mask drew near to her, flashing his dagger before her eyes, she, the weakest, the most timid of women, made a sudden snatch at the mask and tore it off.
She saw his face and recognized him. . . .
For an instant her eyes gazed upon him and then she collapsed on the ground in a swoon.
It was pretty late next morning when Mr. Gerzson raised his muddled head from the table. The sun was shining brightly through the blinds.