Her father started, and raising his expressionless face to hers, asked in almost a snappish tone, "Well, and who has heard them now, pray?"
"Several people, I believe."
"And they're gossiping as usual, eh?" he remarked in a hard, dry tone. "Up here in the Highlands they are ridiculously superstitious. Who's been telling you about the Whispers, child?"
"Oh, I've learnt of them from several people," she replied evasively. "Mysterious voices were heard, they say, last night, and for several nights previously. It's also a local tradition that all those who hear the whispered warning die within forty days."
"Bosh, my dear! utter rubbish!" the old man laughed. "Who's been trying to frighten you?"
"Nobody, dad. I merely tell you what the country people say."
"Yes," he remarked, "I know. The story is a gruesome one, and in the Highlands a story is not attractive unless it has some fatality in it. Up here the belief in demonology and witchcraft has died very hard. Get down Penny's Traditions of Perth—first shelf to the left beyond the second window, right-hand corner. It will explain to you how very superstitious the people have ever been."
"I know all that, dad," persisted the girl; "but I'm interested in this extraordinary story of the Whispers. You, as an antiquary, have, no doubt, investigated all the legendary lore connected with Glencardine. The people declare that the Whispers are heard, and, I am told, believe some extraordinary theory regarding them."
"A theory!" he exclaimed quickly. "What theory? What has been discovered?"
"Nothing, as far as I know."