CHAPTER VII
The brokerage firm of Williams & Slosson had not yet arrived at the point of throwing away money on externals. The offices consisted of a reception room and outer office, and two private offices, in one of the old buildings across from the Board of Trade.
Under their windows was Monument Place. All the life of the city flowed around and through and under the monument; from his desk, Ried Williams had beneath his eyes the pulsing heart of Indianapolis. Upon this particular Tuesday morning, however, he was taking no interest whatever in the view. He had arrived early at the office and was in irritable humor.
"No word yet from Mr. Slosson?" he snapped at the typist.
"No, sir."
"Confound it! Nine o'clock now—here, call up his hotel and get him on the line if he's there. If not, see if they've heard from him."
Five minutes later, Williams uttered a grunt of satisfaction as he seized his desk telephone and heard the sleepy accents of his partner.
"Where've you been, Pete? Why didn't you show up here yesterday—what?" He paused, listening, and changed countenance. "What's that? Robbed and thrown off the train? What have you done about it?"
He listened anew, his sallow features tightening with anxiety.
"Well, I suppose you did right to say nothing," he admitted. "You don't know who it was, eh? Were you drunk? Oh, never mind all that—I know you. Well, get dressed and get down here right away. You've had a fine long spree in New York, and now you're going to watch your step—what? Yes, the checks came in this morning's mail; Macgowan must have sent them out first thing yesterday morning. Get down here, now, and get down at once. All right."
Williams hung up the receiver. As he did so, his door opened and the typist appeared.
"There are three men here to see you," she said. "Mr. Windsor—"
The eyes of Williams darted to his desk. He hastily dropped certain papers into the top drawer, closed it, and nodded.
"Very well, bring them in,"' he said.
"Good morning," said Windsor, as he entered the office. "Mr. Williams, here are Mr. Armstrong and his friend Mr. Dorns. I've consented to let Armstrong ask a few questions about those affidavits, if you don't mind. Where's Slosson?"
At hearing this, at sight of Armstrong and Robert Dorns, Williams stiffened. His darkly vulpine features turned a shade lighter; his crafty eyes settled on the gaze of Armstrong with a species of crafty boldness. Beholding himself unexpectedly cornered, he rose to the occasion with an outward display of assurance which, however desperate it was, betrayed no weakness or hesitation.
"I am entirely at your service, gentlemen," he said coldly. "Mr. Slosson has been in New York—"
"Why, I thought he'd be back before this!" exclaimed Windsor.
"He should have been. I had a telephone message from him, a moment ago that he would be at the office in a few moments. It appears that en route here he was assaulted and robbed and thrown off his train. I had not learned of it before now, and know no details. Sit down, please. We might as well be comfortable."
Armstrong perceived danger in this admirable sang-froid, and from that moment despaired of his purpose. This man was not to be browbeaten or tricked; only some accident, some slight word or action, could overcome him. Accordingly Armstrong, who now had himself perfectly in hand, plunged straight into the midst of things with as quiet and businesslike an air as he could summon up. He glanced at the copy of the affidavit in his hand, then spoke calmly.
"You know what I want to ask you, of course. This affidavit that you gave Mr. Windsor is the cause of our visit."
"So I presume." Williams was imperturbable. "As you may imagine, it was not given of my own choice, but from necessity."
"Every statement in this affidavit," went on Armstrong coolly, "is false—"
"One moment, if you please," intervened Williams, and looked up at Windsor. "May I inquire whether this conversation is to be made a matter of record? In such event, I should like to have my lawyer present."
Windsor nodded. "If you like, of course. But this is entirely informal and between ourselves. You are compelled to answer nothing."
"Thank you. In that case, Mr. Armstrong, proceed. I have nothing to conceal."
Armstrong faced defeat, and knew it.
"The statements in this affidavit will have to be backed up on the stand," he continued. "You realize that?"
"Certainly."
"You say that I corresponded with you in regard to the Deming Company's affairs, in June of last year, urging you to put upon the market a stock issue which I might handle. What proof have you of such a statement? Are you able to produce the correspondence?"
"As you are aware," and Williams smiled slightly, "you instructed me to destroy the two letters which I had from you. I so did. Mr. Slosson read them, however, and will be able to reproduce their gist."
Armstrong compressed his lips. At every step, the trap was closing more firmly.
"Then," he went on slowly, "you say that complete instructions regarding this stock issue were given you verbally, by my representative Wren, in Evansville on the tenth of July last—"
"Mr. Slosson was a witness to the conversation," struck in Williams smoothly.
"—and that he advised you," pursued Armstrong, "to falsify the company's financial statement in such a manner that blue sky licenses might be obtained."
"Do you deny that Wren did so?"
"Of course," said Armstrong impatiently. "He was in Evansville then, and I believe that he interviewed you, gaining certain information about the standing of the company. I understood that it was in bad shape, due to incompetent directors, and was making plans to the end of helping Mr. Deming to retrieve the lost ground—but Wren certainly never made such proposals as you here assert."
Windsor was intent, Dorns was frowning; Ried Williams shrugged and spoke with an assumed helplessness that was very well done.
"Of course, Armstrong, passing the lie does no good here and now."
Armstrong looked at him.
"Williams, how long has Slosson been in New York?"
This question brought a narrowing of the other man's lids.
"A week, or a little over."
"Did you or Macgowan send him to my house?"
To all three of his listeners, this question brought startled surprise, for Dorns knew nothing of Armstrong's recent domestic trouble. For an instant Williams was so badly shaken that Armstrong thought the victory won.
"Your house?" repeated Williams, bewildered and wildly alarmed. "What the devil was he doing there?"
"Talking," said Armstrong. Perceiving the advantage of reticence, and being himself ignorant of Slosson's exact errand at Aircastle Point, he gave the frowning Windsor a slight smile. Obviously, that gentleman thought that Slosson had given Armstrong warning of this whole affair, and was disturbed thereby. Armstrong shifted his ground quickly.
"As you very well know, at the time you charge that I was conspiring with you, my affairs were all in the hands of Lawrence Macgowan. Just where does he enter into this matter?"
Williams hesitated slightly before this shrewd demand.
"So far as I know," he responded, "he was not connected with it at all."
"Really?" Armstrong laughed. "When, at the time, he was my personal adviser and chief aid? You never suspected that he was involved or had knowledge of this?"
"No," said Williams stubbornly.
"Not even when, after my marriage, he handled on my behalf all the negotiations which ended in Consolidated Securities taking over Food Products?"
Williams rallied. "The matter was never discussed between us," he responded. "If Macgowan was aware of the matter, he never mentioned it."
"Yet you are relatives," persisted Armstrong. "And you have been very intimate with him, particularly of late. You were in Wilmington at the annual meeting of Consolidated, and voted ten thousand shares of stock, paid for with your note for five thousand dollars. Before you went to Wilmington, you must have been aware of Mr. Windsor's active interest in this present affair—isn't that so, Windsor?"
"Yes," said Windsor quietly. Armstrong looked at Williams.
"Then you did not discuss the matter with Macgowan while you were in Wilmington?"
"No." Williams clenched his thin lips for an instant. "No. He was too much occupied with his campaign to give time to outside matters."
"That is very extraordinary." Armstrong laughed again. "You'll have to fix up a better story on that before you go on the witness stand, I warn you! Then you don't know about Slosson coming to my house, or what took place as a result of his call?"
Fear leaped into the eyes of Williams again, yet he answered quickly and with obvious sincerity that impressed even Armstrong.
"No. We went to New York together, and separated. I haven't seen him since, and he certainly did not intend seeing you."
Windsor intervened quietly.
"Mr. Armstrong, may I ask just what did take place as a result of his call on you?"
"I can't answer that question now." Armstrong paled slightly; a spark leaped into his eyes. "Wait until Slosson gets here, and we'll have the matter out then."
So far as Williams was concerned, he knew himself beaten. Dorns, who was sitting close to Williams' desk, must have known it also; but the sharp eye of Dorns had been prying about that desk. Now Dorns leaned forward, and reached out one long arm.
"D'ye mind if I look at this?" he said, and extricated a half-concealed check from among the papers there. Williams did not answer, but sat immobile, silent, his eyes narrowed upon Dorns. The latter shrugged, and handed the check to Windsor.
"This ain't my funeral," he said. "But you might like to ask questions yourself."
Windsor inspected the check, and glanced up at Ried Williams.
"A check for five thousand from Consolidated?"
Armstrong thrilled to those words, but Williams only nodded slightly.
"Certainly. What is wrong about that?"
"Nothing," said Windsor slowly. "But I don't like your close connection with Macgowan. May I ask what this check is to cover?"
"Of course." Williams, with perfect aplomb, leaned over and drew a second check from the top drawer of his desk. "Here is another check of similar amount drawn to Mr. Slosson. Both are dated April tenth, you will observe. They constitute payment to us for services rendered in placing a stock issue for them."
"What stock issue?" demanded Armstrong crisply.
"That of the National Reduction Company." Williams met his gaze squarely.
"Ten thousand dollars commission, eh? So you're in on the looting too. Whew! You got a fine slice, Williams. Do you happen to have any record of the transaction?"
"I have records showing that we placed this entire stock issue with brokerage houses in Chicago," returned Williams. "But I've no intention of exposing the business of a client to the active enemy of that client. If Mr. Windsor wants to see the records, that's another thing entirely."
"I think I'd like to see them," spoke up Windsor quietly.
Ried Williams touched a button on his desk, and his typist entered. He instructed her to bring the records in regard to the National Reduction stock issue, and she retired.
Armstrong, who had hoped for a moment that they had at last stumbled upon something, immediately perceived that Williams had fortified himself against every contingency. Those two checks had undoubtedly come for services rendered at Wilmington; unless, indeed, they had come as payment for the perjury and fraud which Williams and Slosson were perpetrating in this very affair with Windsor! No matter if Windsor's suspicions were now aroused, the crafty Ried Williams would scrape through.
The typist appeared, but without the records.
"Mr. Windsor is wanted at the telephone," she announced. "By his office."
"Give me the call here, please." Windsor reached for the desk telephone. "Yes?" He listened for a moment, then an expression of amazement crossed his face. "Who? Wait a minute—say that over again! What's the amount? Give me the date, please."
The typist entered, handed the records required to Williams, and closed the door again.
"Very well," said Windsor. "You're sure of that date, are you? Good. Why, you'd better come over here right away. Yes, bring them along."
He hung up the receiver. It appeared that his call had no relation to the business in hand, for he turned to Williams at once.
"Ah! You have the records?"
He took the typed sheets and glanced through them rapidly. Then, with a nod, he returned them to Williams.
"What other sums have you received lately from Macgowan's company?" he asked.
"None," said Williams composedly. "As you see, this transaction is closed."
"Then you and Slosson have no further business under way with Consolidated?"
"None."
"And these two checks dated the tenth are the final step in the transaction?"
"Yes."
Windsor nodded. "I see. This appears to be perfectly straight, Armstrong. Are there any further questions you'd like to ask?"
Armstrong knew that he was checked. He was in a trap from which there was no way out; all the exits had been blocked by so cleverly woven a fabric of perjury that he could do nothing except struggle in futile passion.
At this instant the door opened and Pete Slosson appeared on the threshold.