"And written with intent, or I'm a Dutchman!" thought Armstrong.
He had not far to seek for enemies; the former directorate of Food Products hated him bitterly enough. He had himself to blame for this, since he had not hidden his scorn and despite of them; he realized now the insolence of his own manner. They would have preferred to let the company crash, rather than be saved by him—but their pride had given way before their selfish interests. No doubt one of them had been behind the publication of this innuendo in a local newspaper. Williams, it might be; that sallow, crafty scoundrel was the sort to do such a thing.
Armstrong did not know that Williams and Macgowan were cousins. Few people did know it.
The fact that this innuendo had come in Dorothy's letter from her father, hurt; though of course Deming had not perceived the hint in the clipping. Further, Armstrong was not unmindful of a slight rift within the Consolidated lute. Findlater, his nominal president, was taking a new and active interest in the company's affairs.
Findlater, like the other directors, was a figurehead. They had been paid flatly in stock and drew no salaries. With former bank connections, Findlater had been valuable to Armstrong, and was paid for that value. Now, finding that Consolidated was a big thing, Findlater was prying about and about, intruding here and there, sniffing like a dog on the scent of game. Armstrong's lip curled at the thought of Findlater, whom he had come to dislike cordially.
"He and the rest—all of 'em on the scent, except Macgowan," he reflected. "Looking for pickings! Well, they backed me, but I have the control. Consolidated is making money, they're making money, and our investors are making money. I wonder if this sly thrust from Evansville could have any throwback to Findlater and his crowd?"
He thought of wiring Macgowan to look into this, and decided in the negative. Mac need not be troubled with such petty things. This was only some little spite-work, not worth attention. Besides, Findlater as yet knew nothing about the inside of the Food Products affair. That lay between Armstrong and Macgowan and Jimmy Wren alone.
Macgowan! There was a man for you! Armstrong's face warmed at the bare thought of his friend. Only Macgowan, from the start, had gone into Consolidated with a firm and unshaken faith. Only Macgowan had fought past one crisis after another with all the power of his keen intellect. Only Macgowan had forced those other men to stay in line behind Armstrong.
Macgowan had seen the value of that queer and extraordinary idea which Armstrong brought with him to New York. The old notion of finance as a war, said Armstrong, had seen its day and was doomed. It was purely an Old Testament teaching, wherein one side was victor, the other side vanquished; it was a preachment of conquest, of destruction without compromise—of spoils. It was a doctrine of loot, and in the new world of to-day this old doctrine was as dead as Moses.
Instead, Armstrong brought forth a New Testament ideal; that, instead of war, there should be mutual advancement. He preached that finance was a successful and worth-while thing only when all parties to the transaction were gainers. And how they had laughed!