"I'm afraid so," I said, looking at him steadily. "You do remember that?"
"Yes. Distinctly." But he looked absent and thoughtful, as though the memory were not quite as clear as his words would imply.
"By the way, how did you know Barker when he came in?"
A sharp change came over his expression. His young face looked set and stern as that of an avenging angel. "I was by my father's side when Barker shot him," he said quietly.
"I didn't know. I can understand your feeling. But this idea of avenging him,--have you cherished it all these years?"
"No, not in that way," he said thoughtfully. "I think it just came over me of a sudden."
"What did you do with the revolver afterwards?"
"I threw it into an alley as I went by." (It was never found.)
"You spoke to no one of your plan?"
"No."