"Oh, no, no, my lady! Certainly not! Why, if his lordship ever knew that I'd come to you—" He stopped and shook his head.
"I understand," said Lady Eleanor. "No, Lord Yorke must never know—no one must know—"
"I should have gone to the duke, my lady, but his grace is abroad, as no doubt your ladyship knows."
Lady Eleanor turned her head aside. She and Ralph Duncombe had timed the attack on Yorke for the moment when the duke should be beyond reach.
"His grace would have helped my master, I know; and I'd have made bold to write to him, but there isn't time."
Lady Eleanor shook her head.
"No, no," she said. "He must not know—no one must know. You need not be anxious any longer, Fleming. You were right in coming to me and—and—" She sunk into the chair.
Fleming heaved a sigh of relief.
"Very well, my lady. I don't know much about it, but the person who seems the principal in this set upon his lordship is a man named Duncombe—a money-lender, I expect. They take all sorts of names. I wish I had him to myself for a quarter of an hour. I'd teach him to put a man in possession—begging your ladyship's pardon," he broke off.