“All right. You’ll take the reins coming back then.”
And Freda saw by the expression of John Thurley’s face that he was too much annoyed to wish to sit by her just then.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
It was getting dark when the dogcart drove up to Oldcastle Farm. The front door which had been partly destroyed by the forcible entry of the police was open, and both gentlemen were inclined to the conclusion that the lonely tenant of the house had left it. They were confirmed in this opinion when, on ringing the bell, they found no notice taken of their summons.
“Poor lad’s turned it up,” said Captain Mulgrave turning to Thurley with a nod.
“It looks like it.”
They tied the horse up to an iron ring in the farm-house wall provided for such purposes, and went inside, leaving Freda, who now hung back a little, to come in or not, as she pleased. As soon as the two gentlemen had gone down the entrance hall, Freda slipped in after them, and waited to see which way they would turn. After a glance into the rooms to right and left, they went through into the court-yard. Taking for granted that Dick had at last followed the only possible course of abandoning the old shell of what had been his boyhood’s home, they were going, by Thurley’s demand, to explore those recesses where the smuggled goods had formerly been stored.
Freda knew better than they. Tripping quickly through the empty rooms and passages, she reached the door of the banqueting-hall, but was suddenly seized with a fit of shyness when she heard the sound of a man coughing. However, she conquered this feeling sufficiently to open the door under cover of the noise Dick made in poking the fire, and then she stood just inside, shy again. Dick felt the draught from the open door, turned and saw her. He was sitting in his own chair by the fire, with the old dog still at his feet. The shadows were already black under the high windows on the side of the court-yard, but the light from the west was still strong enough for Freda to see a flash of pleasure come into his face as he caught sight of her.
“You have a bad cold,” she said in a constrained voice, coming shyly forward as he almost ran to meet her.
“Yes, there’s a broken window up there,” said he, glancing upwards, “and—and the curtains the spiders make are not very thick.”