"Isn't it doing the work?" Macgowan frowned slightly.
"Yes. But, Mac, do you realize that we had to dig deep in writing off those worthless assets? I want to save money."
"Yes, and that hurt." Macgowan chuckled. "Findlater was moaning about it the other day. Asked why we hadn't let those assets ride for a while."
Armstrong's eyes chilled, as they usually did at mention of Findlater.
"You told him?"
"That we were too cursed honest; or rather, you. If I'd been in your shoes, I'd have been tempted to do otherwise."
"Yes, you would!" Armstrong laughed. "You old rascal, you'd have been the first one to come clean! But see here, Mac. I'm cutting down my organization. I'm going to eliminate all the Pacific Coast, everything west of the Mississippi, in fact."
The broad, finely chiseled features of Macgowan underwent a certain change at this information—so decided a change that Armstrong wondered. For an instant he fancied that those piercingly aggressive eyes bored into him with a look bordering on suspicion.
"What the devil!" ejaculated the lawyer. "Why, only last week you spoke of branching out farther!"
Armstrong leaned back and drew at his cigar.