Then, after a moment: "All right, French. Don't lose any sleep over it. Much obliged to you."
He hung up the receiver and turned to Jimmy Wren. He was laughing, but his eyes were dancing with the cold flame of sun-smitten ice.
"You heard, Jimmy? Want to start for Europe?"
Jimmy Wren gaped at him, then grinned and swung palm to palm with a hearty grip.
"Damn Europe! I'm with you till hell freezes over, and you know it!"
"All right. Let's get back—"
He was too late. He found that the meeting had been adjourned until next morning. Cursing, angry men were pouring from the place. He encountered Mansfield and Dorns in company; the lawyer was white with suppressed fury. Dorns regarded Armstrong grimly and bit hard at a cigar.
"Well?" demanded Armstrong, as they got clear of the crowd. "Did you stop him?"
Mansfield shook his head.
"There was a directors' meeting a week ago—a secret one," he said crisply. "Ten thousand shares of stock were issued to Ried Williams. His note for five thousand dollars was issued in payment. Then the transfer books were closed."