Her voice floated down through a chink in the floor above. “What can it be, Cheetah?”
Then: “It's coming nearer.”
The screaming continued, heart-rending, eviscerating shrieks. Benham, still confused, lit a match. All the men about him were stirring or sitting up and listening, their faces showing distorted and ugly in the flicker of his light. “CHE E?” he tried. No one answered. Then one by one they stood up and went softly to the ladder that led to the stable-room below. Benham struck a second match and a third.
“Giorgio!” he called.
The cavasse made an arresting gesture and followed discreetly and noiselessly after the others, leaving Benham alone in the dark.
Benham heard their shuffling patter, one after the other, down the ladder, the sounds of a door being unbarred softly, and then no other sound but that incessant shrieking in the darkness.
Had they gone out? Were they standing at the door looking out into the night and listening?
Amanda had found the chink and her voice sounded nearer.
“It's a woman,” she said.
The shrieking came nearer and nearer, long, repeated, throat-tearing shrieks. Far off there was a great clamour of dogs. And there was another sound, a whisper—?