"He came with a pretended warning for you, Reese. He had learned, he said, about this case of Tom Windsor's and wanted to warn you. Now I know that he lied to me. Also, he told me that you had robbed my father, that you had planned long ahead of time to take Food Products away from him—oh, it was so cleverly done, Reese! I was completely taken in. I had been led to suspect the Food Products affair, from little things—it was Macgowan all the time, making me think so! I believe now that it was all a terrible lie, Reese. Well, after Slosson went away, I called Jimmy Wren at Wilmington. He admitted that he had been in Evansville a month before our wedding—"
Armstrong nodded, no trace of any emotion marring the even calm of his features.
"Yes, Jimmy was there. We knew that Food Products was going under. Jimmy was observing the general conduct of things at the plant, and I was trying to formulate some method of saving the company."
"According to Slosson," and Dorothy looked squarely at the man, "Jimmy was then making arrangements with the directors to take the company out of father's hands!"
Armstrong laughed. "And according to Macgowan, Jimmy was then arranging to issue the stock, acting as a go-between from me to the old directors. Well, Pete? How about it?"
Under their gaze, Slosson whitened still further, wet his lips, could not answer. His whole cosmos of artifice and peacock lies had crashed down about him. No longer was he a fine arbiter of destiny, one whose subtle genius could control things around—but a petty trickster, unmasked, facing retribution. One could see the horror of this exposure, the bitter physical fear of Armstrong, working in his brain.
"Speak up!" snapped Armstrong. He moved slightly; a movement of swift restraint. It became suddenly evident that this calm manner of his was deceptive; his was the quiet of effort, of tension, of a sane mind controlling surging impulses. "Do you want me to make you speak, you cur?"
Slosson broke.
"No, no!" The wretched man threw out his hands in a miserable gesture of despair. "I—it was all false, Dorothy. It—that visit—Macgowan wanted me to do it all, to tell you those things—"
He paused. His dead and lifeless voice rang upon the stillness of the room with inert tones.