Again they sounded--again--and yet again.

Then there was another voice, still low, still whispering, but not quite so deep as the first.

It sounded like a woman's.
Local tradition had it that the place held the ghosts of those who had died in agony within its noisome dungeons; but she had always been far too matter-of-fact to accept stories of the supernatural.

Yet at that moment her ears did not deceive her.

That pile of grim, gaunt ruins was a House of Whispers! Again she listened, never moving a muscle.