CHAPTER VIII
Armstrong entered his own office a little after nine in the morning, crushing a newspaper in his hand; what he had read there had rendered him livid with helpless anger. He found Jimmy Wren awaiting him.
"Hello!" exclaimed Wren. "I saw Mansfield last night. He said that he'd attend to releasing this attachment by this afternoon anyhow. There's a check from Food Products in the mail, but we can't use it; everything tied up."
Armstrong only nodded, and handed Wren a penciled list of names.
"Call up these fellows, Jimmy, or their secretaries, and make appointments for me between ten and twelve this morning. Spread the appointments as well as you can. If I don't raise that ten thousand—"
"As bad as that, is it?"' asked Jimmy Wren, his eyes anxious. "You're borrowing?"
"How the devil can I get it without?"
"Well, I sort of figured on that last night." Jimmy Wren came to the desk, and began to disgorge bills from his pockets. He looked up at the astounded Armstrong with a grin. "I'm darned sorry I couldn't do better, Reese. Here's twelve hundred to throw into the pot, anyhow."
For an instant Armstrong was speechless. Then:
"By gad, Jimmy! You can't mean—where did you get this cash?"
Wren colored slightly.
"I had some in my sock, and I borrowed the rest—from a friend. Now, get it tied up and I'll go sit over the telephone. I'll have a taxi here. You cool off and we'll make the rounds together."
Jimmy departed hastily, leaving Armstrong staring at the pile of bills. Jimmy Wren the impulsive, the warm-hearted, the devoted!
At one minute of twelve, Armstrong reached the auction rooms in Vesey Street. When he entered, the Food Products notes were being offered for sale. Armstrong handed over ten thousand in cash for them.
How he had collected that money, he scarcely knew; he knew, however, that he had in his thoughts wronged his friends. That two-million-dollar suit had rung like a bugle-blast across the pages of the morning papers, yet his friends had rallied. He had seen man after man, stating his case briefly, setting his simple word against all the thunderous allegations of the enemy—and he had won.
The moment his victory was assured, he came near going to pieces. For two hours he had been under a tremendous strain, pouring forth every atom of his energy and will-power; now he was shaken, broken by the effort, exhausted. He knew that Findlater was somewhere here, and Macgowan, but he ignored them. He got away as quickly as possible, in the taxicab that Jimmy had hired.
Of what took place during the remainder of that day, he was scarcely conscious. The blow had been warded, however. And, in the afternoon, he had Mansfield's grim assurance that the suit would never come into court, that the attachment was released.
As though that victory turned the tide of affairs, the succeeding days witnessed a steady ebb in the fortunes of Findlater and Macgowan, a corresponding flood in the prospects of the Protective Association. Mansfield was hammering away energetically. He obtained an injunction which cut short Findlater's campaign with the money and property of Consolidated; this forced the enemy to spend actual money of his own, and was a shrewd blow.
The annual meeting of the stockholders of Consolidated was called, and the place named was Wilmington. Upon this fact Sessions seized with avidity. He flooded the mails with letters, pointing out that Findlater was afraid to hold the meeting under the jurisdiction of South Dakota courts, pointing out that Wilmington was not readily accessible to many of the investors, driving home new charges of trickery and fraud.
Now the fight was becoming serious for Macgowan, and the latter knew it. Thousands of the investors were registered with the Association, proxies were pouring in, and the denials and camouflage used by the Consolidated directors availed little. Findlater was himself carrying on a desperate battle for proxies, under the guidance of Macgowan, and neglected nothing in the effort to avert disaster. Armstrong wondered how the two of them would get out from under the swelling tide of libel and perjury which they were creating.
Then the campaign rose to a smashing climax—all that Armstrong could have desired.
Into Armstrong's office, late one afternoon, walked Henderson, the assistant treasurer of Consolidated Securities. He looked at Armstrong with a wry smile.
"I want to get into this Protective Association and turn over my voting proxy to you," he said quietly. "And if there's any information I can furnish, just ask."
"What's the answer?" demanded Armstrong curtly. He knew Henderson was square, yet—
"I've resigned." Henderson read his thought. "Things are getting too rotten over there to suit me. If you can use me in your company, I'd like a job—but I'm not offering you information to get it. My ten shares of stock look pretty big to me, and if the Association doesn't win this fight they're going to look pretty small. Job or no, I'm with you."
"That's straight talk," said Armstrong. "Come over and see Judge Holcomb."
Within an hour the Association was in possession of affidavits from Henderson which went into type and print the following day. At last the inside operation of Consolidated, under Findlater's management, was exposed to public scrutiny. To sum up Henderson's information:
1. The National Reduction Company, Findlater's pet scheme, had been put through just as proposed to Armstrong, with large free gifts of stock to Consolidated directors, and had to date cost the stockholders of Consolidated something over a hundred thousand.
2. Further, Macgowan was purchasing all the preferred stock of Consolidated that he could secure around seventy, using company funds paid out on company checks. This stock was being resold to new investors at nearly double that price. About a thousand shares per week were changing hands in this fashion, and on each share Macgowan and Findlater received ten dollars commission as private loot.
3. The back salaries given Macgowan and the other looters were confirmed. Henderson also swore to a statement regarding the financial solvency of Consolidated—a statement showing that the value of Consolidated stock was dropping with alarming rapidity.
With these affidavits, the Protective Association swept into action. Burton, Sessions and Holcomb took the stump, addressing meetings wherever two or three investors could be gathered together. They blew away the dust from Macgowan's tracks, centered the entire battle upon the management of Findlater and his associates, appealed to the investors to alter this management at the forthcoming annual meeting.
Dorns armed them well with photographic copies from Consolidated's books and with letters written or received by Findlater. Henderson's affidavits fortified them with startling facts. And all the while the Armstrong Review hammered away, reaching each individual investor, backing up everything with the printed word.
Nor did the committee end here. To the stockholders they presented a constructive program, with guarantees that the proxies would be used to put it into effect. The chief points of this program were the removal of the present management, a strict investigation of the company's affairs, and an enforced accounting for misused funds. Through all these weeks of campaigning swept the battle-cry of "Show the books!"—a cry to which Findlater turned a deaf ear. Neither he nor Macgowan were insensible to the danger that threatened them, however.
They darted forth sudden and vicious attacks in a desperate effort so to discredit Armstrong and his associates that the investors would withhold proxies from them. The hand that launched these attacks was that of Findlater, but the brain behind them all was that of Macgowan, bitter and virulent. In half a dozen states Macgowan was seeking to obtain indictments against Armstrong on any sort of charge—but Armstrong, too, was fighting. Dorns and his men were vigilant, Mansfield was quick to parry and strike back. So transparent were the artifices of Macgowan that Armstrong was almost lulled into a feeling of security.
The tide steadily set in favor of the Protective Association. The body of stockholders were whipped into a frantic condition; suit and counter-suit, charge and counter-charge, all contributed to lash them into wild alarm. Upon some the crafty wiles of Macgowan prevailed; his campaign for proxies was reaching a desperate climax. The majority, however, came to realize the actual facts, and the magic of Armstrong's name and personality was not lost. For, despite the most incredible efforts, Macgowan was unable to discredit this man who had been his friend. One would have said that every move of Macgowan's was blocked by some invisible hand, or was brought to fruitless issue by some unseen agent.
By the final week in March, the campaign ended. Weary, still athrill with the fight they had waged, the committee of three returned to the city, ready for the meeting at Wilmington. Armstrong had remained in charge of the home offices, attending to the vast detail work that was necessary. Now, when he came to check up with his associates, they found cause for exultation indeed.
"Nearly all the outstanding shares," said Judge Holcomb, as they went over the lists, "are owned in lots of one or two. So far, we seem to be in control of a good ten thousand votes—"
"And more coming in with every mail," put in Sessions. "Besides what we've bought up in the open market. How does she stand, Armstrong?"
"A total of thirty-five thousand outstanding," said Armstrong, who knew the figures by heart. "At this minute we own or control twenty thousand."
There was a moment of silence. Then Mansfield, who was present, intervened to cut short the jubilant expressions of victory.
"Including those in the voting trust?"
"Yes. Three thousand there."
"Suppose we defer celebrations," said Judge Holcomb shrewdly. "Everything's going to change before the meeting; it's bound to. If I were you, I'd look for a last minute blow from those rascals. Therefore, go slow—and don't let up!"
This was good advice. Armstrong realized that, notwithstanding the apparent victory, both his personal credit and that of the Armstrong Company had suffered an extraordinary amount of damage, not to mention the harm that this fight was causing Consolidated as a business concern. The damage would be assessed at law, but it was done.
That Macgowan had met with some success in his campaign for proxies, was evident. His methods had been to utilize falsehood, brazen filing of suits which would never be tried, desperate attempts to publicize Armstrong as a trickster and cheat. Yet with all this, the control of Consolidated was bound to pass to Armstrong at the annual meeting. His three thousand shares tied up in the voting trust would, when released, confirm the victory.
But Judge Holcomb, keen old veteran that he was, had prophesied truly.
Six days before the annual meeting, the blow fell. Macgowan came into the open as plaintiff, filing suit upon absolutely baseless charges which, however, served as grounds for making an attachment. Upon the voting trustees—Macgowan, Findlater and Jimmy Wren, whom Armstrong had continued in the voting trust—were served the attachment papers. By those papers, the Sheriff of New York commanded that Armstrong's stock should not be released from the voting trust until the attachment should be satisfied.
Mansfield came to the office, read the papers, listened in silence to Armstrong's furious outburst of denunciation. Then he spoke, calmly.
"Surely, I warned you of such action, and you expected it—"
"Such action as this?" Armstrong struck the papers violently. "Do you realize that these charges have not a particle of truth, of substantiation—that the suit is illegal, the whole action a mockery of the law?"
Mansfield, imperturbably, assented.
"Quite so. I realize, also, that we are helpless. After the election this suit will be dismissed. Make up your mind, sir, that Macgowan is going to vote your stock at this meeting! At any cost! He cares not what punitive action we take afterward. He can fight that in the courts, postpone retribution, evade from pillar to post. In the end, he must settle; before that time comes, he will have milked Consolidated to the limit, and will be well able to settle. Our one hope is and must be to beat this trickster by the votes of your stockholders."
Armstrong turned to Judge Holcomb, who was present with Bruton.
"Can we do that, gentlemen?"
Bruton had been swiftly checking over a paper in his hand. Now he glanced up.
"We have at this moment one hundred votes in excess of a majority."
"What? You mean—"
"Even granting him the voting trust, Macgowan has lost. Proxies for three hundred shares came in to-day. We are actually at this moment on the safe side, and with what comes in during the next few days, we shall be indisputably in control."
Mansfield rose.
"Gentlemen, I congratulate you on having won your own fight. I think you have no further need of my advice and encouragement—for the present."
He bowed and departed, and left them still incredulous, amazed by their own achievement, even now scarce able to realize the swift change from defeat into victory.