Mavis stopped and took hold of her brother’s arm to steady him; and as she did so both children plainly heard a voice that was not the voice of either of them. It was the sweetest voice in the world they thought, and it said:
“Save her. We die in captivity.”
Francis looked down and had a sort of sudden sight of something white and brown and green that moved and went quickly down under the stone on which Mavis was standing. There was nothing now holding his foot.
“I say,” he said, on a deep breath of awe and wonder, “did you hear that?”
“Of course, I heard it.”
“We couldn’t both have fancied it,” he said, “I wish it had told us who to save, and where, and how—”
“Whose do you think that voice was?” Mavis asked softly.
“The Mermaid’s,” said Francis, “who else’s could it have been?”
