The heterogeneous character of the Opposition with which the Government was confronted, the conflicting groups and interests into which it was split up, offered large scope for the intriguing, contriving genius of the man. And he was spending it lavishly. The small eyes were more invisible, the circles round them more saucer-like than ever. Meanwhile George Tressady had never been so keenly conscious as on this critical afternoon that his party had begun to drop him out of its reckonings. Consultations that would once have included him as a matter of course were going on without him. During the whole of this busy day Fontenoy even had hardly spoken to him; the battle was leaving him on one side. Well, what room for bitterness?--though, with the unreason that no man escapes, he was not without bitterness. He had disappointed them as a debater--and, in other ways, what had he done for them since Whitsuntide? No doubt also the mention of his name in the reports of the Mile End meeting had not been without its effect. He believed that Fontenoy's personal regard for him still held. Otherwise, he was beginning to feel himself placed in a tacit isolation. What wonder, good Lord! During the dinner-hour he found himself in a corner of the library, dreaming over a biography of Lord Melbourne. Poor Melbourne! in those last tragic years of waiting and pining, every day expecting the proffer of office that never came and the familiar recognition that would be his no more. But Melbourne was old, and had had his day. "I wanted to speak to you," said a hoarse voice, over his shoulder. "Say on, and sit down," said George, smiling, and pushing forward a chair beside him. "I should think you'll want a week's sleep after this." "Have you got some time to spare this week," said Fontenoy, abruptly, as he sat down. George hesitated. "Well, no. I ought to go down to the country immediately, and see after my own affairs and the strike, before Committee begins. There is a meeting of coal-owners on Wednesday." "What I want wouldn't take long," said Fontenoy, persistently, after a pause. "I hear you have been going round workshops lately?" His keen, peremptory eyes fixed his companion. "I had a round or two with Everard," said George. "We saw a fair representative lot." The thought that flashed through Fontenoy's mind was, "Why the deuce didn't you speak of it to me?" Aloud, he said with impatience: "Representing what Everard chose to show, I should think. However, what I want is this. You know the series of extracts from reports that has been going on lately in the 'Chronicle.'" George nodded.