Next morning she went alone to the kennels to find Stewart and to question him.  He had told her many weird stories and traditions of the old place, and it struck her that he might be able to furnish her with some information regarding her strange discovery.  Had anyone else heard those Whispers besides herself, she wondered.

She met several of the guests, but assiduously avoided them, until at last she saw the thin, long-legged keeper going towards his cottage with Dash, the faithful old spaniel, at his heels.

When she hailed him he touched his cap respectfully, changed his gun to the other arm, and wished her “Guid-mornin’, Miss Gabrielle,” in his strong Scotch accent.

She bade him put down his gun and walk with her up the hill towards the ruins.

“Look here, Stewart,” she commanded in a confidential tone, “I’m going to take you into my confidence.  I know I can trust you with a secret.”

“Ye may, miss,” replied the keen-eyed Scot.  “I houp Sir Henry trusts me as a faithfu’ servant.  I’ve been on Glencardine estate noo, miss, thae forty year.”

“Stewart, we all know you are faithful, and that you can keep your tongue still.  What I’m about to tell you is in strictest confidence.  Not even my father knows it.”

“Ah! then it’s a secret e’en frae the laird, eh?”

“Yes,” she replied.  “I want you to come up to the old castle with me,” pointing to the great ruined pile standing boldly in the summer sunlight, “and I want you to tell me all you know.  I’ve had a very uncanny experience there.”

“What, miss!” exclaimed the man, halting and looking her seriously in the face; “ha’e ye seen the ghaist?”

“No, I haven’t seen any ghost,” replied the girl; “but last night I heard most extraordinary sounds, as though people were within the old walls.”

“Guid sake, miss! an’ ha’e ye actually h’ard the Whispers?” he gasped.

“Then other people have heard them, eh?” inquired the girl quickly.  “Tell me all you know about the matter, Stewart.”

“A’?” he said, slowly shaking his head.  “I ken but a wee bittie aboot the noises.”

“Who has heard them besides myself?”

“Maxwell o’Tullichuil’s girl.  She said she h’ard the Whispers ae nicht aboot a year syne.  They’re a bad omen, miss, for the lassie deed sudden a fortnicht later.”

“Did anyone else hear them?”

“Auld Willie Buchan, wha lived doon in Auchterarder village, declared that ae nicht, while poachin’ for rabbits, he h’ard the voices.  He telt the doctor sae when he lay in bed a-deein’ aboot three weeks aifterwards.  Ay, miss, I’m sair sorry ye’ve h’ard the Whispers.”

“Then they’re regarded as a bad omen to those who overhear them?” she remarked.