Looking in he saw only darkness. Then suddenly he gave a soft
call, the call of an Irish bird-note which all people in Ireland--in the
west and south of Ireland--know. If Sheila was alive and in the place
she would answer it, he was sure. He waited a moment, and there was no
answer. Then he called again, and in an instant, as though from a great
distance, there came the reply of the same note, clearer and more bell-
like than his own.
"She's there!" he said, and boldly entered the place. It was dark and
damp, but ahead was a break in the solid monotony of ruined wall, and he
saw a clear stream of light beyond. He stole ahead, got over the stone
obstructions, and came on to a biggish room which once had been a
refectory. Looking round it he saw three doors--one evidently led into
the kitchen, one into a pantry, and one into a hall. It was clear the
women were alone, or some one would have come in answer to his call. Who
could tell when they would come? There was no time to be lost. With an
instinct, which proved correct, he opened the door leading into the old
kitchen, and there, tied, and with pale faces, but in no other sense
disordered, were Sheila and her mother.
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