Evarts closed the door behind him and stared blankly. Then Armstrong perceived that his face was haggard, seared with the brand of worry and of sleepless nights. Evarts came slowly forward, his eyes fastened upon Armstrong; that gaze betrayed a doubt, a wild anxiety, tormenting the inner man.
"Jimmy's gone,"' he said slowly.
"Where?"
Evarts waved his hand in vague fashion.
"My heavens, chief! Don't you know what's going on here? Everything's paralyzed. No one knows what to expect, when indictments will be—"
"Stop your drooling! Where's Wren?"
"In Tampa, by this time. On his way to Europe."
"Tampa? Europe?" Armstrong was astounded. "Why, in the devil's name?"
Evarts made a desperate effort, forced himself to comparative calmness.
"Skipped out ahead of the crash, that's all. We're expecting every minute to have the records seized. Two postal inspectors were here yesterday, going into things with Macgowan. The Wilmington office 'phoned in yesterday to Wren that we could look for a fraud order to-day, and also for indictments. Jimmy had a conference with Macgowan, and skipped out. Bangs has resigned and gone. I've been thinking of it myself, only—"