"I see," he said at length. "Yes. I see."
Dorns waved his cigar, drove home his point.
"We ain't in this fight for selfish reasons, but for the good of the company. Now, at the very minute Macgowan gets into the saddle—what happens? His crowd goes back on him. Findlater is ready to ditch him. S'pose we make terms?
"Then our stock is back in control. Leave Findlater there if we have to! Believe me, when we're dealin' with Findlater and not Macgowan, we can handle him! It's Macgowan's infernal brains that have been makin' this fight, me lad; don't mistake that. Why not let Mansfield have a little talk, learn what we can do? They can't put anything over on Q. Adams, and you know it!"
Armstrong was silent again. Then he rose to his feet.
"Go ahead, Mansfield," he said. "I'm going to telephone my wife—excuse me."
He went into the adjacent room and closed the door.
For a little he was unable to get a connection; he waited. At length he heard the maid's voice on the line, and asked for Dorothy. Another wait. Then came the voice of Dorothy, coolly speaking his name. Something in her tone startled him.
"Are you well, lady?"
"Well enough in body, Reese," she said. "Not in mind. There is something you must do for me."