"Good-by."
Mrs. Fowler hung up the receiver, and smiled into the mirror.
CHAPTER II
Armstrong should have reached New York at nine o'clock on the Wednesday following Christmas, but his train was forty minutes late. Dorothy had remained in Evansville, to come East in a few days with her parents.
At precisely ten o'clock, Armstrong entered his own office. He sat down at his desk, shoved aside the waiting pile of mail, drew up the telephone and asked for Jimmy Wren. To his astonishment, he was informed that Wren was out of the city.
"Send Mr. Evarts here," he said curtly.
Evarts was sales manager of the Armstrong Company, under Wren—another of Armstrong's own men, devoted to him. Far from being the nervous, high-strung type of Wren, this Evarts was imperturbable, well poised, thoroughly alert and aggressive; a good man in all respects, and substantial.
The door opened and Evarts appeared.
"Where's Jimmy Wren?" demanded Armstrong.