“Can it be?” thought Frank, in amazement. “Is this Igela! or is it the black wench that entrapped me?”
The flaring light was of a baffling nature, and he could not make out much save that it was a girl beyond the shadow of a doubt.
The thumping of his heart became so loud that he feared she must hear it. He pressed one hand over it, trying to smother the sound of its heavy and rapid pulsations. Through his head the blood was rushing like a riotous, roaring river.
His mind was filled with a thousand wild conjectures and speculations. His thoughts were in a mad tumult.
It seemed to the eager boy that the girl advanced with the slowness of a snail, and still he dreaded to have her come nearer. Never before in his life had he been so wrought up, and he began to realize that his confinement in that horrible place had worked havoc with his nerves.
Many of the sensations Frank experienced as he waited for the girl to approach were new to him, and he wondered at himself. A thought that he must go mad if forced to remain long in that vault flashed like a bloodied rocket through his brain.
Then he noticed that the hand of the girl which held the lamp was shaking as if she had the palsy. It was a fair, plump hand, but it seemed about to loose its hold and let the lamp fall.
The girl halted, and it was plain that she was nearly overcome with fear. She seemed on the verge of flight.
“She must not run away now!” thought the excited youth. “If she tries it, I shall overtake her before she can reach the steps.”
He bent forward, ready to make a dash if she turned to retreat.