"Why, what do you mean? I shall inherit the title as soon as my father dies."
"But suppose you have no right to the title?"
Donaster gave a distinct start. Then he laughed.
"H'm, you needn't worry about that. Just you wait."
"But suppose you are not Lord Donaster's son?" Grimsby's question was very deliberate, but it had an immediate effect.
"Not his son! What are you driving at, anyway? Stop your nonsense.
If I am not Lord Donaster's son, who am I, then?"
"You are an impostor, that's what you are. There is no Lord Donaster. Your father is a shoemaker in the State of New Jersey. I have proof, so you needn't try to deny it."
Donaster had now risen to his feet. He was trembling violently, and his face was as white as death.
"For God's sake!" he gasped, "how did you learn all this? Who are you, anyway?"
"Never mind who I am," and Grimsby smiled with satisfaction. He was succeeding better than he had expected. "You know what I say is true."