"Mr. Blaine, if I were in the mood to be facetious, I might employ your American vernacular and ask that you tell me something I don't know! Come to the point, man; you try my patience." "In view of recent developments, I am under the impression that Scotland Yard would welcome your reappearance on British soil, but I fear that will be forever impossible," Blaine said slowly. "Just as you were beside your uncles when each met with his end, so you were beside Pennington Lawton when death came to him! That has been proved. Just as brandy and soda, and peach brandy, are amber-colored, so are Scotch high-balls, which you and Pennington Lawton were drinking. No odor of peaches lingered about the room, for Miss Lawton had lighted a handful of joss-sticks in a vase upon the mantel earlier in the evening, and their pungent perfume filled the air. But the odor of peaches permeated the room when the tiny bottle which you hid in the folds of the chair was uncorked--the odor of peaches rose above the stench of mortifying flesh, when the body of your victim was exhumed late last night for a belated autopsy! The heart would have revealed the truth, had there been no corroborative evidence, for it was filled with arterial blood--incontrovertible proof of death by prussic-acid poisoning." There was a tense pause, and then Rockamore spoke sharply, his voice strained to the breaking point. "If you are so certain of my guilt, Blaine, why have you come to me secretly here and now? What is your price?" "I have no price," the great detective answered, simply. "Then why did you not arrest me at once? Why this purposeless interview?" "Because--" Blaine paused, and when he spoke again, a solemn hush, almost of pity, had crept into his tones. "You come of a fine old line, Mr. Rockamore, of a splendid race. Your grandfather, the aged Earl, is living only in the past, proud of the record of his forebears. Your father is a soldier and statesman, valuable to the nation; his younger brother, Cedric, has achieved deserved fame and glory in the Boer War. There remains only you. For the sake of the innocent who must suffer with you, I have come to you to-night, that you may have an opportunity to--prepare yourself. In the morning I must arrest you. My duty is plain." As he uttered the words, the craven fear which had struggled through the malicious sneer on the other man's face faded as if an obliterating hand had passed across his brow, and a look of indomitable courage and resignation took its place. There was something akin to nobility in his expression as he turned to the detective with head proudly erect and shoulders squared. "I thank you, Mr. Blaine," he said, simply. "I understand. I shall not fail them--the others! You have been far more generous to me than I deserve. And now--good-night. You will find me here when you come in the morning."