When she stepped forward therefore, and threw herself between Sir George and the door--still more when, with an intrepid gesture, she cried 'Stay, sir; we have not done with you yet,' there was a sensation. As the crowd pressed up to see and hear what passed, her accusing finger pointed steadily to Sir George's breast. 'What is that you have there?' she continued. 'That which peeps from your breast pocket, sir?' Sir George, who, furious as he was, could go no farther without coming in contact with her ladyship, smothered an oath. 'Madam,' he said, 'let me pass.' 'Not until you explain how you came by that fan,' she answered sturdily; and held her ground. 'Fan?' he cried savagely. 'What fan?' Unfortunately the passions that had swept through his mind during the last few minutes, the discovery he had made, and the flood of pity that would let him think of nothing but the girl--the girl carried away screaming and helpless, a prey to he knew not whom--left in his mind scant room for trifles. He had clean forgotten the fan. But the crowd gave him no credit for this; and some murmured, and some exchanged glances, when he asked 'What fan?' Still more when my lady rejoined, 'The fan in your breast,' and drew it out and all saw it, was there a plain and general feeling against him. Unheeding, he stared at the fan with grief-stricken eyes. 'I picked it up in the road,' he muttered, as much to himself as to them. 'It is hers?' 'Yes,' he said, holding it reverently. 'She must have dropped it--in the struggle!' And then 'My God!' he continued fiercely, the sight of the fan bringing the truth more vividly before him, 'Let me pass! Or I shall be doing some one a mischief! Madam, let me pass, I say!' His tone was such that an ordinary woman must have given way to him; but the viscountess had her reasons for being staunch. 'No,' she said stoutly, 'not until these gentlemen have heard more. You have her fan, which she took out an hour ago. She went to meet you--that we know from this person'--she indicated Mr. Fishwick; 'and to meet you at your request. The time, at sunset, the place, the corner of Manton Lane. And what is the upshot? At that corner, at sunset, persons and a carriage were waiting to carry her off. Who besides you knew that she would be there?' Lady Dunborough continued, driving home the point with her finger. 'Who besides you knew the time? And that being so, as soon as they are safely away with her, you walk in here with an innocent face and her fan in your pocket, and know naught about it! For shame! for shame! Sir George! You will have us think we see the Cock Lane Ghost next. For my part,' her ladyship continued ironically, 'I would as soon believe in the rabbit-woman.' 'Let me pass, madam,' Sir George cried between his teeth. 'If you were not a woman--'