“How am I to know, sir?” said the voice again.
“Because I tell you so,” snapped Ralph. “And if more is wanted, my name is Torridon. You have a sister of mine in there.”
There was an exclamation from within; and the sound of whispering; and then hasty footsteps went softly across the paved court inside.
The voice spoke again.
“I ask your pardon, sir; but have you any paper—or—”
Ralph snatched out a document of identification, and leaned forward from his horse to pass it through the opening. He felt trembling fingers take it from him; and a moment later heard returning footsteps.
There was a rustle of paper, and then a whisper within.
“Well, my dear?”
Something shifted in the bright square, and it grew gloomy as a face pressed up against the bars. Then again it shifted and the light shone out, and a flutter of whispers followed.
“Really, madam—” began Ralph; but there was the jingle of keys, and the sound of panting, and almost immediately a bolt shot back, followed by the noise of a key turning. A chorus of whispers broke out and a scurry of footsteps, and then the door opened inwards and a little old woman stood there in a black habit, her face swathed in white above and below. The others had vanished.