"He's the biggest detective in the country, absolutely responsible."
"Sure. At the same time, the matter can be better handled from the inside. I'll run down to Washington to-night. You know, I have a good many friends there, Federal men and others. If any investigation is going on, I can check it quicker than Dorns could."
"I don't want it checked!" said Armstrong angrily. "I want everything wide open! And I want these reports run down to the ground!"
"Leave that to me," returned Macgowan, with assurance. "Wren can give me all his letters and instructions to agents. I'll guarantee to satisfy the postal men in an hour's time. Then I'll take up the letter itself with Lewis and see what's back of it; I'll wire him at once, in fact. You'll do better to keep these things in the family, Reese, than to call in any outside help."
Armstrong considered this, and found it good. That any breath of suspicion should be cast on his methods, angered him intensely; on the other hand, there was so obviously some inexplicable mistake involved that it behooved him to go slow.
His business was founded upon confidence. The only way in which Consolidated could be attacked, the only way in which Armstrong himself could be attacked, was by attacking the confidence of the thousands of investors. That this letter from Seattle indicated any such attack, never for an instant occurred to him.
"All right," he said at length. "Take care of it in your own way, Mac. Advise me at Evansville just what's behind this, or what's going on."
Macgowan assented briefly, and seized his things. If he were to catch the Washington flyer that night, he had much to do. When he had departed, Jimmy Wren frowned and lighted a dead cigar.
"Mac was sweating. All worked up; notice it? Hope he'll handle things right. I'm off to wire the coast. If I get any answers before you leave, I'll let you know."
Armstrong found himself alone.