Ask him what became of Tom Langdon after they left that prize fight.

He won't be able to tell you, of course.

He loses his memory; all he will be able to remember is that his father spent a lot of money and hired some good lawyers and got him out of it.

He won't be able to tell you a thing about how his own cousin was found with his skull crushed in, and the bloody wooden mallet lying beside him--the mallet that this fellow had stolen the night before at a prize fight! He won't--" White-hot with anger, Barry Houston lurched forward, to find himself caught in the arms of the sheriff and thrown back.

He whirled,--and stopped, looking with glazed, deadened eyes into the blanched, horrified features of a girl who evidently had heard the accusation, a girl who stood poised in revulsion a moment before she turned, and, almost running, hurried to mount her horse and ride away.