Who had not heard of Sir Henry Durwood, the nerve specialist whose skill had made his name a household word amongst the most exclusive women in England, and, incidentally, won him a knighthood?
There were professional detractors who hinted that Sir Henry had climbed into the heaven of Harley Street and fat fees by the ladder of social influence which a wealthy, well-born wife had provided, with no qualifications of his own except "the best bedside manner in England" and a thorough knowledge of the weaknesses of the feminine temperament.

But his admirers--and they were legion--declared that Sir Henry Durwood was the only man in London who really understood how to treat the complex nervous system of the present generation.

These thoughts ran through Colwyn's mind as he murmured that the opinion of such an eminent specialist as Sir Henry Durwood on the case before them must naturally outweigh his own.
"You are very good to say so." Sir Henry spoke as though the tribute were no more than his due.

"In my opinion, the symptoms of this young man point to epilepsy, and his behaviour downstairs was due to a seizure from which he is slowly recovering." "Epilepsy! Haut or petit mal ?" "The lesser form--petit mal, in my opinion." "But are his symptoms consistent with the form of epilepsy known as petit mal, Sir Henry?
I thought in that lesser form of the disease the victim merely suffered from slight seizures of transient unconsciousness, without convulsions, regaining control of himself after losing himself, to speak broadly, for a few seconds or so." "Ah, I see you know something of the disease.

That simplifies matters.
The layman's mind is usually at sea when it comes to discussing a complicated affection of the nervous system like epilepsy.