"I—beg your pardon, I did not quite catch the name," he said. He spoke very slowly, enunciating each word distinctly, as if he were uncertain of his voice. "I did not quite catch the name."
"Leslie Lisle," said Lady Eleanor. "He met her at a place called Portmaris. You may remember that I mentioned it to you when you were here some weeks ago."
"Yes—I—remember," he said, in just the same slow, mechanical voice. He put his hat down and sat with tightly set lips and eyes fixed on the carpet.
Lady Eleanor looked at his grave, set face, waiting.
"Have you thought of anything, any plan by which the marriage could be prevented?" she asked anxiously.
He was silent for a moment or two, then, without looking up, he said:
"And they are to be married secretly?"
"Yes," and her face flushed and paled.
"And at once?" he asked, and she thought his voice was strangely hoarse.
"At once, I—I am told."