"Maybe your memory needs refreshing. Such little things as I figured in probably slipped your mind the minute you were through with them. To be explicit, my name is Barry Houston, son of the late William K. Houston. You and I met—in the courtroom. You once did me the very high honor to accuse me of murder and then tried your level best to send me to the penitentiary for life when you knew, absolutely and thoroughly, that I was an innocent man!"
CHAPTER XVII
The former district attorney started slightly. Then, coming still closer, he peered into the tense, angry features of Barry Houston.
"A bit melodramatic, aren't you?" he asked in a sneering tone.
"Perhaps so. But then murder is always melodramatic."
"Murder? You don't intend—"
"No. I simply referred to the past. I should have said 'reference to murder.' I hope you will pardon me if any inelegance of language should offend you."
"Sarcastic, aren't you?"
"I have a right to be. Knowing what I know—I should use more than sarcasm."