Lady Eleanor drew a long breath and shuddered.
"You mean—"
"Men, when they're down as low as my master, they do rash things sometimes, my lady," said Fleming, in a solemn whisper.
Lady Eleanor's face went white, and she put her hand to her delicate throat as if she were suffocating.
"You—you should not say—hint—at such terrible things, Fleming," she panted.
"I—I beg your ladyship's pardon," he said, humbly, "but it's the truth and—and I thought I ought to tell you, being his lordship's friend."
"Yes—yes, I am his friend," she said, as if she scarcely knew what she was saying. "And I will try to help him."
Fleming's face brightened.
"Oh, my lady!" he said, gratefully.
"Stop!" she said. "Your master, Lord Yorke, must not know;" and her face grew crimson again.