"I think," said I, "that I shall be able to prove my detective powers to you later on, speaking very particularly." 

 "Ah, indeed! In what way?" 

 "'Later on' was what I said." 

 "All right. I'm in no hurry." 

 "I am. Because several matters have got to be settled before I can progress much further. For one thing, you haven't answered my second question. Your opinion of my book or my British limitations as a detective has nothing to do with your attitude toward the play." 

 "If you know so much, perhaps you know more." 

 "Frankly, I don't. I ask you to tell me the rest as frankly." 

 "Very well. Perhaps the medicine will go to the spot quicker if you understand what it's for. It sounds sort of melodramatic, and maybe it is so; but my wish—my intention—to strangle your play at birth, or crush it afterwards, has revenge for its motive." 

 "Revenge for what?" 

 "For the cruel act of a member of your family to a member of mine." 

 "There's only one other member of my family beside myself—my brother." 

 "Exactly! That's the man. There's only one other member of my family beside myself. That's my adopted sister. I care more for her than anyone else in the world—except one. Through your brother, my sister's health and her hopes are both ruined. If you didn't know before, you know now what you're up against." 

 "I assure you I didn't know," I said.  "This is the last thing that occurred to me. I admit I thought of something else——" 

 "Oh, is there something else? It's not needed. Still, you may as well out with it, so I can put another black mark against the name." 

 "I'll tell you, when I'm ready to talk of the detective test I spoke of. But about my brother injuring your adopted sister. There must be some mistake——" 

 "Not on your life, if you're Lord John Hasle and your brother's the Marquis of Haslemere." 

 "I can't deny that." 

 "It's a pity!" 

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