"Have you ever seen the prisoner before?" asked Felder.
"Yes."
"When?"
"When he was a minister of the gospel."
Felder stared. The judge frowned. The jury looked at one another and a laugh ran round the hushed room.
The merriment kindled the evangelist's distempered passion. Sudden anger flamed in him. He leaned forward and shook his hand vehemently at the table where Harry sat, his face as colorless as the flower he wore.
"That man's name," he blazed, "is not Hugh Stires! It is a cloak he has chosen to cover his shame! He is the Reverend Henry Sanderson of Aniston!"