It was a woman's voice that cried, and at the sound of pleading speech in some chamber above them, William Douglas started to his feet.
The words were clear enough, but in a language not understood by Sholto MacKim.

They seemed intelligible enough, however, to the Earl.
"I knew it," he cried; "the false hounds have imprisoned her also.

It is Sybilla's voice.

God in heaven--they are torturing her!" He ran to the door and shook it vehemently.
"Ho! Without there!" he cried imperiously, as if in his own Castle at Thrieve.
But no one paid any attention to his shouts, and presently the woman's voice died down to a slow sobbing which was quite audible in the room beneath, where the three young men listened.
"What did she say ?" asked David, presently, of his brother, who still stood with his ear to the door.
The Earl first made a gesture commanding silence, and then, hearing nothing more, he came slowly over to the window.

"It is the Lady Sybilla," he said, in a voice which revealed his deep emotion.