George's name had not as yet been actually mentioned, but everybody knew who it was,--that "relative of Lord Tottlebury, whose legal experience, if nothing else, should have kept him from bringing ungrounded accusations;" and George's position was far from pleasant. He began to see, or fancy he saw, men looking askance at him; his entrance was the occasion of a sudden pause in conversation; his relations with his family were, it need hardly be said, intolerable to the last degree; and, finally, Isabel Bourne had openly gone over to the enemy, had made her mother invite Neaera Witt to dinner, and had passed George in the park with the merest mockery of a bow. He was anxious to bring matters to an issue one way or another, and with this end he wrote to Lord Tottlebury, asking him to arrange a meeting with Mrs. Witt. "As you are aware," he said, "I have been to Peckton. I have already told you what I found there, so far as it bore on the fact of 'Nelly Game's' conviction. I now desire to give certain persons who were acquainted with 'Nelly Game' an opportunity of seeing Mrs. Witt. No doubt she will raise no objections. Blodwell is willing to put his chambers at our disposal; and I think this would be the best place, as it will avoid the gossip and curiosity of the servants. Will Mrs. Witt name a day and time? I and my companions will make a point of suiting her convenience." George's "companions" were none other than the fussy clerk and the fat policeman. The female warder had vanished; and although there were some prison officials whose office dated from before Nelly Game's imprisonment, George felt that, unless his first two witnesses were favourable, it would be useless to press the matter, and did not at present enlist their services. Mr. Jennings, the Lincoln's Inn barrister, had proved utterly hopeless. George showed him the photograph. "I shouldn't have recognized it from Eve's," said Mr. Jennings; and George felt that he might, without duplicity, ignore such a useless witness. Neaera laughed a little at the proposal when it was submitted to her, but expressed her willingness to consent to it. Gerald was almost angry with her for not being angry at the indignity. "He goes too far: upon my word he does;" he muttered. "What does it matter, dear?" asked Neaera. "It will be rather fun." Lord Tottlebury raised a hand in grave protest. "My dear Neaera!" said he. "Not much fun for George," Gerald remarked in grim triumph. "I suppose Mr. Blodwell's chambers will do?" asked Lord Tottlebury. "It seems convenient." But here Neaera, rather to his surprise, had her own views. She wasn't going down to musty chambers to be stared at--yes, Gerald, all lawyers stared,--and taken for a breach-of-promise person, and generally besmirched with legal mire. No: nor she wouldn't have Mr. George Neston's spies in her house; nor would she put herself out the least about it. "Then it must be in my house," said Lord Tottlebury.