"You bet! Maybe, with Armstrong and Macgowan in action, everything will be settled very quickly. You don't know Macgowan?"'
"I have just met him." Mrs. Fowler carefully shook the ash from her cigarette. "He seems to be a very charming sort of man. I know that Harry Lorenz thinks highly of him."
"So does everybody," said Jimmy Wren. "Even Armstrong, who takes advice from mighty few men, listens with all his ears to Mac."
"He's on your side in this fight, isn't he?"
"Who, Mac? You bet he is. I wish I could be as certain of the outcome as Armstrong is! There's a real man, I tell you. Mighty few like him alive!"
Mrs. Fowler sighed.
"I wish I could encourage you, Jimmy dear," she said softly. "But you see, I know so much about this man Findlater and his associates!"
"Eh?" Jimmy Wren looked up at her. "You know him?"
"Not personally, no. But I do wish that you had almost any other man in town to fight against! They say that Henry C. Findlater never opens battle until he has all his wires laid—and then he simply blows up his opponents."
"He'll have a hard job blowing us up," said Wren, but the worried and anxious look began to creep back about his eyes.