The triumphant thought had scarcely flashed through her mind when, with a start, she became aware that she was not alone. A man was creeping stealthily from the opposite side of the room towards her.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Freda was by this time getting too much accustomed to the shifts and surprises of the smugglers’ haunt to be greatly alarmed by the discovery that she was not alone in the underground chamber. Besides, her indignation against Thurley gave her a fellow-feeling with even the most lawless of the men he had been sent to spy upon. So she cried out in a clear voice:
“It is I, Freda Mulgrave; I have come down here to escape being carried off to London by John Thurley. Who are you?”
The man raised to the level of his face a dark lantern, turning its rays full upon himself. The girl, in spite of the fact that she was prepared to keep her feelings well under control, gave a cry of joy.
It was her father.
Freda stretched out her arms to him, trembling, frightened, crying with misery and with joy.
“You have escaped!” she whispered. “Escaped! Oh, what can I do to help you? to save you?”
Captain Mulgrave laughed, but with a quiver in his voice, as he smoothed her bright hair.
“Calm down, child,” he said kindly. “I—I want to talk to you. Come with me to the ruins! I want to get out to the daylight, where I can see your little face.”