"But they all know I came to see you!"
"Never mind. Keep your mouth shut, Jimmy. Tell Macgowan and nobody else that I shall be present at that meeting on Wednesday morning. I want Findlater's resignation as president and director. I want every share of his stock bought up or taken away from him. You and Mac will use the voting trust to that end. In the meantime, tell Mac that if he can logically connect Findlater with this faked-up trouble, to start suit against him for conspiracy or anything else that's possible. Those are your orders."
"Good!" said Wren, his mouth full. "Fine! I'll do it. But I haven't any money, Reese; I haven't the price of a ticket back! I came away in a rush—"
Armstrong laughed, and glanced at Dorothy.
"Dear, will you be good enough to get my pocketbook? I think it's on the dresser."
Dorothy nodded, rose, and left the room. Armstrong's manner had had its effect upon her too; her pallor had departed, and as she left, she threw a reassuring smile back at Jimmy Wren.
Suddenly the latter started, looking up at Armstrong with new consternation.
"Reese—I forgot about it—meant to write you! It has nothing to do with this affair, but it's something you ought to know. I found it out the day after you left, while I was going through everything, trying—"
"Cool off, Jimmy. What is it?" Armstrong passed a cigar across the table. "Light that first, then spill the news. Discovered something?"
Wren nodding, lighted his cigar.