"No, and nothing ever will be discovered," he said.
"Why not, dad?" she asked. "Do you deny that strange noises are heard there when there is so much evidence in the affirmative?"
"I really don't know, my dear. I've never had the pleasure of hearing them myself, though I've been told of them ever since I bought the place."
"But there is a legend which is supposed to account for them, is there not, dad? Do tell me what you know," she urged. "I'm so very much interested in the old place and its bygone history."
"The less you know concerning the Whispers the better, my dear," he replied abruptly.
Her father's ominous words surprised her. Did he, too, believe in the fatal omen, though he was trying to mislead her and poke fun at the local superstition?
"But why shouldn't I know?" she protested. "This is the first time, dad, that you've tried to withhold from me any antiquarian knowledge that you possess. Besides, the story of Glencardine and its lords is intensely fascinating to me."
"So might be the Whispers, if ever you had the misfortune to hear them."
"Misfortune!" she gasped, turning pale. "Why do you say misfortune?"
But he laughed a strange, hollow laugh, and, endeavouring to turn his seriousness into humour, said, "Well, they might give you a turn, perhaps. They would make me start, I feel sure. From what I've been told, they seem to come from nowhere. It is practically an unseen spectre who has the rather unusual gift of speech."