After a minute of intense silence he put a question.
"Did you hear anything?"
"Did you?" I stammered.
"Are we mad, Verslun?" he asked hoarsely. "I thought—" He stopped and moved close to me. I heard his quick breathing as he groped to find me.
"Verslun, did you hear?" he whispered, gripping my arm. "I heard her speak."
"I thought I did," I breathed. "Perhaps—perhaps it was an echo."
For a few minutes we stood, our ears searching for the sound that had disturbed us. We seemed afraid to call out—afraid to quench the little spark of hope which had suddenly flared up in the despair that filled our breasts. We knew that our ears had lied, and we tried to lengthen the thrill by remaining perfectly silent.
The sound came again, and Holman sent a wild cry into the night that hemmed us in. We were not insane! The spark of hope blazed as we rushed headlong forward. The silvery voice of Barbara Herndon had come to us again through the terrible gloom!
