"No, he's definitely out of business. By the way, we had a caller at the house the other evening—that chap from Evansville who's a relative of yours. Ried Williams."
Macgowan glanced up in astonishment.
"Williams! Is he in town? Hope he doesn't look me up."
Armstrong laughed. "Why? Aren't you on good terms?"
"I suppose so." Macgowan shrugged lightly. "I never had much use for that chap; he's no good. Look how he cut up when we threw him out of Food Products!"
"While I never claimed to love him, I'd hate to insult your relatives, Mac," and Armstrong laughed cheerily. "His injured dignity has recovered; at least, he appeared very amiable. He's an old friend of Dorothy's; not a dear friend, but he forms a link with her home town, you know."
Macgowan stirred uneasily. "He isn't locating here, is he?"
"No." Armstrong leaned back. "He's in the brokerage business in Indianapolis, I gather. You recall that other man on the Food Products board, the one who looked like a dissipated Adonis, and who aspired to Dorothy? Pete Slosson?"
"Yep," grunted Macgowan. His eyes, under veiling lids, were very bright and keen.
"The two are in partnership and doing well, according to Williams. I always thought they both hated me like sin for dumping them out of Food Products, but they've gotten over it. Williams showed up pretty well, though I'd not trust him very far."