"Not--not Leslie! It is impossible."
"It is the truth," I answered. "He is alive."
I caught her just in time, and led her to the sofa. Her face was
bloodless, even to the lips.
"Lady Dennisford," I said earnestly, "for his sake, for mine, bear up.
Don't let me have to call for the servants. We are both in danger. Your
people will probably be questioned."
"I will be brave," she answered with quivering lips; "but what did it
mean--at Saxby then? Why, there was a funeral!"
"He was hard-pressed," I told her, "and it was the only way to save him.
Be brave, Lady Dennisford, for I have come to you for help!"
"I will do everything you ask me to," she answered. "But tell me one
thing more. He is alive!"
"He is in London," I answered. "He would have come himself, but the risk
would have been greater. Will you listen to what I have to say?"
"Go on," she answered. "I am ready."
"You know what happened to him in Berlin fifteen years ago," I began. "He
suffered for another's fault, but he suffered. His career was over, he
was left with but two objects in life.
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