CHAPTER VI
Upon Monday morning Armstrong and Dorns ascertained very speedily that Tom Windsor was still out of the city. His office reported that he had come and gone, and was expected back again Tuesday morning by latest.
Overnight, Dorns heard Armstrong's tale and strongly commended the impulse to seek out Windsor.
"I've heard of this bird," said the detective musingly. "He's all they say of him, and then some. He's nobody's fool, but it looks as though Macgowan had made a fool out of him this time, with that ten-thousand-dollar job."
"He's an innocent party."
"Sure. Well, you got to see him quick and find out what's been hatched. It must be something slick, to get past this Windsor party. He figures to work up a fine case against you, resign his present job in a blaze of glory, and then start life in New York as a famous man. The straighter they are, the harder they fall—when they're approached the right way. Bet you ten bucks that when you get to the bottom of this, you'll find there ain't a single peg to hang Macgowan on, not a one!"
Armstrong feared that his friend was right.
Upon learning that Windsor would not be back until the following morning, Dorns hastily consulted a timetable, then proposed that he catch the next train to Chicago, arrange his business there, and return to Indianapolis the next morning. Armstrong nodded assent.
"You get a line on Windsor," said Dorns. "I'll be here by nine or ten o'clock in the morning, maybe earlier. If you can't get to him, I will. He ain't going to refuse to see me—not much!"
So, bidding Dorns farewell, Armstrong went about his business frankly and bluntly, going direct to the office of the state commissioner of securities.
He found himself welcomed by the commissioner, if not with suspicion certainly with a lack of cordiality mingled with astonishment. Obviously, his name was unfavorably known; but he lost no time in stating his case. The commissioner listened, eyed him appraisingly, and shook his head.
"I'm afraid it would do you no good to see him—"
"You misunderstand," cut in Armstrong curtly. "I want a hearing from Mr. Windsor before he acts further—that's all. I am ignorant of what charges are laid at my door; I know only that nothing can be brought against me or the Armstrong Company unless backed by fraud. I am acquainted with Mr. Windsor's character, and I believe that he has been made use of by other parties. If that's the case, I want a chance to show him the facts before this thing, whatever it is, attains publicity. I've nothing to conceal."
"Personally," returned the commissioner slowly, "I have no knowledge of the exact case upon which Mr. Windsor is working. Certain facts came to his attention; he requested that he be appointed special investigator to look into your handling of the Deming Food Products stock. More than this I don't know. But, Mr. Armstrong, I do know something of recent publicity which has come your way. The fight which has centered around Consolidated Securities has been widely advertised. You have, for example, been indicted in Illinois—"
Armstrong uttered an angry laugh.
"If you'll keep your eye on that Illinois indictment, you'll see it dismissed next week. However, I am not here to defend myself, nor do I wish to see Mr. Windsor for that purpose. Will you try to prevail upon him to see me to-morrow, out of common justice to me?"
The commissioner nodded.
"I will. I had a wire half an hour ago saying that he would get in on a night train and that means we'll see him early in the morning. Where can I reach you?"
"At the Claypool."
"I shall telephone you at eight-thirty—but don't be too sanguine. I fear that he'll refuse absolutely to see you."
"Thank you."
Armstrong left, confident that he had done all that was humanly possible. If the stubborn Windsor still refused an interview, things could take their course and be damned to them. Whatever evolved from this tangled skein, Armstrong felt that no great harm could be done him. And he could not forget that, only a few hours and miles away, was Dorothy.
"If I fail to-morrow, I'll jump the next train to Evansville and see her," he said to himself, as he walked the streets that afternoon. "Perhaps time has softened her—at least, she may give me a calm hearing. Confound it all, what have I done that I should have to go about the country begging for hearings! It's outrageous, it's damnable!"
Back at the hotel, his mood passed again into one of despair, for loneliness took hold upon him. It seemed that he was engaged in an interminable struggle in which he achieved only new defeat at every turn. The amazing insolence of Macgowan was insuperable; the man was a very Antæus, rising from every onset with fresh strength and new cunning. At length, dreading the return of his old despondent apathy, Armstrong forced himself to a moving picture theater, which afforded him an hour of mental relief and sent him to bed with the issue of things confided to the knees of the morrow's gods.
At eight-thirty on Tuesday morning, Armstrong was nervously pacing his room when the door was flung open and Robert Dorns entered, unannounced. At the same instant, the telephone rang; with a gesture to Dorns, Armstrong turned quickly to the instrument.
"Yes, this is Mr. Armstrong—"
"The commissioner speaking, sir. I've just seen Mr. Windsor. I regret to say that he refuses absolutely to see you."
Armstrong turned and shot a glance at Dorns, watching and listening.
"He refuses, eh? Does he give any reason?"
"None. I'm sorry."
Armstrong hung up the receiver, and with a gesture of despair turned about. Dorns eyed him, produced a cigar, bit on it.
"Back, is he?"
"Yes. No chance."
"Huh! Had breakfast?"
"Yes."
"So've I. Let's go! I want to get this thing cleaned up and catch a noon train East. Got to be in New York to-morrow night sure. Come on! This bird sees us inside of ten minutes."
Armstrong shrugged, caught up his hat, and followed Dorns. They found a taxicab at the hotel entrance. Dorns growled at the driver.
"Statehouse. Make it quick."
Neither man spoke for a moment, until suddenly Dorns reached out, violently struck Armstrong's knee, and looked the startled Armstrong in the eye.
"Wake up!" he said. "You're at the breakin' point; to-day is either the start or the finish for you, me lad. I can see it in your eye. There's just so much any man can stand, and you're at the end of your rope. Buck up, now! Don't play Macgowan's game for him; he's been tryin' all the while to wear you down, blast his soul! I know him. He figures that if he can devil you just so long, you'll go smash at last. And he's right—you will. But, me lad, hang on a bit longer. Don't play his game for him."
Armstrong nodded soberly. This thought about Macgowan was new to him; he admitted its truth without demur.
"You're right. I suppose I'm pretty close to the edge. Well, thanks for the advice! I'll hang on."
Before the statehouse, Dorns left the taxicab.
"Don't come with me, now. Come right after me. Where's his office?"
"With that of the attorney general."
"All right. Loaf along after me."
Dorns swung up the steps, entered the building, with Armstrong in his wake. He went direct to Windsor's office and sent his card in to Windsor. A moment later, Windsor himself appeared with outstretched hand and welcoming smile.
"Mr. Dorns? I'm very glad to meet you. This is an unexpected honor—"
Dorns grunted. "Want to see you in private a minute."
"Gladly. Come along!"
When they stood inside Windsor's private office, Dorns regarded his man steadily, refused to sit down, and then spoke with a blunt directness.
"I'm informed that you've been offered a job in New York, with the law firm of Milligan, Milligan, Hoyt & Brainard. Is that a fact or not?"
Windsor's eyes widened slightly.
"Eh? Sure, it's a fact. I wasn't aware that it had become widely known, however. I have accepted the offer, which does not go into effect for some months."
"That's bad news—for you."
Windsor sensed antagonism in that hard eye, and stiffened. A flush crept into his face.
"What d'you mean by saying that?" he demanded sharply.
Dorns jerked his head toward the door.
"Armstrong's out there and wants to see you. If you don't let him in, you'll go up for conspiracy and for acceptin' a bribe—and I'll send you up, me lad! Macgowan is back o' that fine job in New York; he's a silent partner in this Milligan law firm. Lord help ye, Windsor, if this ever busts loose in the papers! Now, I know you're square. I know ye weren't aware to Macgowan's part in this. Going to see Armstrong or not? You're in a deep hole, me lad; crawl out of it quick!"
Windsor stared at his informant; into his face crept a species of horrified comprehension. Those blunt words hit him like so many hammers, jarring the truth into him with smashing impact. Nor did he so much as protest the veracity of this information.
"Dorns—is this a fact—about Macgowan?"
"A cold fact," said Dorns. "We know you're square; that's why we're holdin' nothing back. Give Armstrong a hearing—that's all I ask. If you're still satisfied he's a crook, then go ahead; we'll never bleat a word about this bribery thing. But, if ye don't so much as give us a show for our white alley, I'll raise hell's roof with it! Yes or no, me lad?"
Windsor drew a deep breath, realizing that Dorns meant every word, and assented.
"All right. Bring him in. Are you acting with him, for him?"
"Nope. I'm listening with him, that's all. I know he's on the level."
Dorns turned to the door. The gaze of Windsor followed him in puzzled and startled surmise, provoked by those final curt words.
When Armstrong came in, Windsor was seated at his desk, and looked up with a brief nod of greeting; he was once more himself, and motioned silently to chairs. Both men sat down.
"What is it you want?" asked Windsor, steadily regarding Armstrong.
"A chance to show that whatever charges you hold against me are fraudulent."
Windsor swung his chair around, took a cigar from his pocket, and lighted it. For a moment he looked through the window with unseeing eyes, collecting his thoughts; then he swung about again, and faced Armstrong.
"You have a job ahead," he said ominously. "I'm going after you because you obtained a license to market that stock issue of the Deming Company in this state—and obtained it by fraud and perjury and conspiracy. Is that enough?"
Armstrong looked incredulous. "Enough? You don't mean to say that that's the basis of this affair?"
Windsor merely nodded, studying his antagonist through the cigar smoke. Armstrong caught his breath as the tension snapped within him, and broke into a laugh.
"Good Lord, Windsor! That's the simplest thing on earth to answer. When the license was obtained, I had no connection with that company; it was obtained by the previous directorate, before we took over Deming's plant!"
Windsor smiled thinly.
"Sure," he said. "Armstrong, when I called you a crook in New York—if you got my message—I meant the words. I still mean them. I expected exactly that answer from you. It merely confirms my opinion. You're clever, but in this case I have the goods on you."
Armstrong was irritated. "By Macgowan's aid?"
"Not a bit of it." Windsor in turn showed a temptation to anger, but held himself in check. "He had nothing to do with it. The proofs of your crookedness were obtained by me alone. Macgowan's own cousin, Ried Williams, is involved in the conspiracy."
Armstrong stifled his resentment. He was startled, alert, battle-cleared.
"Very well," he said crisply. "Since you already know that I had no connection with that stock issue, except to market it later on, what the devil is there against me?"
Windsor smiled genially.
"I only said that I expected such an answer from you, Armstrong. Here are the facts, straight from the shoulder. Ostensibly, you had nothing to do with that stock issue. In reality, you had everything to do with it. At your suggestion, false statements were sworn to by the Deming directors; the entire scheme of operations as laid out by you was followed by them. The fraud originated with you. Your man, Jimmy Wren, came to Evansville and completed secret arrangements with Williams, at that time Food Products' treasurer. I have absolute proof of all this.
"I have forced confessions from Slosson and from Williams—affidavits which give away the whole game so far as you're concerned, and which completely bare your little conspiracy. My attention was directed to the matter in the first place by certain small investors who demanded an investigation; this led me to uncover the facts; these in turn led me to Williams and Slosson—and there you are."
Windsor replaced his cigar between his teeth and benignly regarded Armstrong.
The latter sat in silence, his brain working at high speed. In a flash he perceived the whole scheme, and realized the danger. Macgowan had cooked up this affair with Williams and Slosson, of course, had laid a very crafty train which would lead Windsor to them. He had carefully covered his own tracks, and had placed Armstrong in a serious predicament.
The cool audacity of the thing was staggering. No wonder Windsor was convinced by the evidence furnished him! Affidavits from two of the former Deming directors, actually implicating themselves, probably supported by cunning additional evidence twisted out of the truth to suit the occasion—why, it was damning!
Armstrong realized instantly that unless either Williams or Slosson could be shaken in their statements, he was doomed. If they stuck by their guns, nothing could save him. He turned suddenly on Robert Dorns, the flicker of a smile on his lips.
"I'd like to have Mansfield here!" he observed whimsically. "I told him about those fraudulent statements when Wren first discovered them, and he was certain that the matter could never be raised against me."
"Why didn't you report them, if you knew they were fraudulent?" shot out Windsor, pouncing on this apparent admission of guilt. "Why cover them up?"
"It was no business of mine." Armstrong faced him, realized that the crucial fight was on. "I had nothing to do with the statements filed by Deming's directors. So far as I know, they were made out by the treasurer, Williams, and he was the only one who knew them to be false, unless the other directors were in on the deal with him."'
Windsor leaned back. "Going to stick to that story?"
"You bet! It's the truth," snapped Armstrong. "That devil Macgowan is back of this whole thing, just as he's behind that offer to you."
Windsor's eyes narrowed uneasily, but he shook his head.
"I can't agree with you. I'll look into that New York job; and I'll say that it was white of you to give me warning about it. But there's no tracing these charges back to Macgowan."
"He's behind it, none the less. He knew about those fraudulent statements."
Windsor quietly dissented. "Armstrong, I've gone through things carefully, looking for just such a connection; I was warned of the possibility in New York. I was in Evansville yesterday and met Dorothy on the street; she suggested the same idea to me—that Macgowan had framed you. I'm sorry for her, cursed sorry! But the facts are open. You're the boss in this thing, and there's enough contributory evidence to put you behind the bars."
"I don't doubt it; Macgowan seems to have done this job up brown!" Armstrong leaned forward earnestly. From the look on Dorns' face, he knew that he was at a critical point. "Now, Windsor, I insisted on seeing you because I knew you were honestly convinced. You believe I'm a crook, don't you?"
"Absolutely," said Windsor calmly.
"On the evidence of two men whom I threw out of Food Products because they had wrecked that company. Good. Suppose we call on Williams and Slosson. Let me talk to 'em in your presence. If they stick to their lies, I'm through. Let the matter come up in court and be fought out. If not—it's up to you."
Windsor removed his cigar and surveyed Armstrong with an indolent air which masked his keen eagerness.
"Either you're the nerviest devil I've ever met or—well, I'll take you up! Wait till I get copies of those affidavits. Back in a minute."
He sprang to his feet and went into the adjoining office.
Armstrong waited. Inwardly, his thoughts had been wrenched aside by Windsor's mention of Evansville, of Dorothy; a fierce, fighting exultation swept through him. So she had appealed to Windsor—she had cared enough to do this thing!
"By gad, that means a lot!" he muttered. "A lot! She's had time to think it over, and there's still hope—"
The voice of Windsor came from the next room, addressing his stenographer.
"If anything important comes up, call me at the office of Williams & Slosson, across from the Board of Trade—you know where it is."
Windsor appeared. "All right," he said. "Let's go!"