"Why, it suggested something to me! Last night, you were talking about forming some organization of the stockholders to fight Macgowan. Couldn't you give it that very name—Stockholders' Protective Association? It's a splendid name!"
"Good!" Armstrong's eyes kindled. "Fine idea, Dot! Sure, I'll take up the idea, and if Mansfield approves—but here comes the crowd. Train's in."
"Oh—there's father—Reese, don't you dare breathe a word of trouble!"
The Demings joined them with hearty greetings. J. Fortescue Deming clapped his son-in-law on the shoulder admiringly.
"Reese, you're looking like a fighting-cock! When Dot left us so hurriedly, I had a notion you were in some sort of a business fight. Win out?"
"Well, I'm winning!" Armstrong laughed as the words left his lips. He knew suddenly that he was all right again, that he was indeed winning. After those few words from Robert Dorns, ten minutes ago, the clouds had lifted.
The faith of men still endured.
When he entered Mansfield's office, at three that afternoon, Armstrong discovered that the lawyer had not been idle these past few days. Mansfield greeted him heartily; Dorns had not yet arrived.
"Well, Mr. Armstrong, I have some definite word for you. That postal investigation is no longer to be feared."
"I never feared it." Armstrong smiled. "You have blocked it, then?"'