But suddenly a movement of one of the players opposite him attracted his attention, and he came back to the present with a start. A young fellow--a mere boy--the heir to a marquisate, Lord Bellamy--the reader will not have forgotten him--had dropped suddenly across the table, his outstretched hands still clutching the cards. There was an instant stir, the men started to their feet, the servants crowded up; all stood aghast. Leycester was the first to recover presence of mind, and, hurrying round the table, picked the boy up in his strong arms. "What's the matter, Bell?" he said; then, as he glanced at the white face, with the dark lines round the eyes, he said in his quiet, composed voice: "He has fainted; fetch a doctor, some of you." And lifting him easily in his arms, he carried him in to an adjoining room. Lord Charles followed with a glass of water, but Leycester put it aside with the one word-- "Brandy." Lord Charles brought some brandy and closed the door, the others standing outside aghast and frightened. Leycester poured some of the spirit through his closed teeth, and the boy came back to life--to what was left for him of life--and smiled up at him. "The room was hot, Bell," said Leycester, in his gentle way; he could be gentle even now. "I wanted you to go home two--three--hours ago! Why didn't you go?" "You--stayed----" gasped the boy. Leicester's lips twitched. "I!" he said. "That is a different matter." The boy's head drooped, and fell back on Leycester's arm. "Tell them not to stop the game," he said; "let somebody play for me!" then he went off again. The doctor came, a fashionable, hardworked man, a friend both of Leycester's and Guildford's, and bent over the lad as he lay. "It's a faint," said Lord Charles, nervously; "nothing else, eh, doctor?" The doctor looked up. "My brougham is outside," he said. "I will take him home." Leycester nodded, and carried the slight frame through the hall and placed it in the brougham. The doctor followed. The cool air revived the boy, and he made an effort to sit up, looking round as if in search of something; at last his wandering sight fell on Leycester's, and he smiled. "That's right, Bell!" said Leycester; "you will be well to-morrow; but mind, no more of this!" and he took the small white hand. The heir to a marquisate clung to the hand, and smiled again. "No, there will be no more of it, Leycester," he breathed, painfully. "There will be no more of anything for me; I have seen the last of the Rookery--and of you all. Leycester, I am dying!" Leycester forced a smile to his white face. "Nonsense, Bell," he said. The boy raised a weak, trembling finger, and pointed to the doctor's face. "Look at him," he said. "He never told a lie in his--life. Ask him." "Tell them to drive on, my lord," said the doctor. The boy laughed, an awful laugh; then his face changed, and even as the brougham moved on, he clung to Leycester's hand, and bending forward, panted: