"What has happened since?" I enquired.

"Nothing," he replied, "perhaps he will be quiet now. Bosie has written him a
terrible letter; he must see now that, if he goes on, he will only injure his
own flesh and blood."

"That won't stop him," I replied, "if I read him aright. But if I could see
what Alfred Douglas wrote, I should be better able to judge of the effect it
will have on Queensberry."

A little later I saw the letter: it shows better than words of mine the tempers
of the chief actors in this squalid story:

"As you return my letters unopened, I am obliged to write on a postcard. I
write to inform you that I treat your absurd threats with absolute indifference.
Ever since your exhibition at O. W.'s house, I have made a point of appearing
with him at many public restaurants such as The Berkeley, Willis's Rooms, the
Cafe Royal, etc., and I shall continue to go to any of these places whenever
I choose and with whom I choose. I am of age and my own master. You have
disowned me at least a dozen times, and have very meanly deprived me of money.
You have therefore no right over me, either legal or moral. If O. W. was to
prosecute you in the Central Criminal Court for libel, you would get seven
years' penal servitude for your outrageous libels. Much as I detest you, I am
anxious to avoid this for the sake of the family; but if you try to assault me,
I shall defend myself with a loaded revolver, which I always carry; and if I
shoot you or if he shoots you, we shall be completely justified, as we shall be
acting in self-defence against a violent and dangerous rough, and I think if you
were dead many people would not miss you.--A. D."