“Ellen?” That was Mrs Lunan’s sharp voice from upstairs. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Mrs Lunan,” I replied. “I thought I heard a noise outside. I was going to investigate.”
“It’s only the wind,” Mrs Lunan told me. “Go back to sleep.”
“Yes, Mrs Lunan,” I said.
I was not sure what to do. Should I admit that I had let the captive free and take the consequences? Or should I say nothing and allow events to take their course. When I was young, I naively mentioned the whistling to Miss Deas in the orphanage in Elgin. She looked at me in disgust and told Mr Snodgrass, who in turn referred me to the nearby lunatic asylum.
I was too young to lie, so when a couple of kindly-looking doctors questioned me, I told them the truth.
“How often do you hear this whistling?” the younger of the two doctors aske
