"Do you know anything about Tom Windsor," he went on, "assistant attorney general of Indiana?" "No," said Armstrong. "I think I've met him in Evansville. A tall, lean-jawed chap?" "Yep. He's a friend of mine; straight as a string and can't be reached. He was in to see me yesterday. Didn't know that I knew you, and asked questions. You'll regard this as confidential?" "Absolutely," returned Armstrong. He made a gesture, and Jimmy Wren closed the door. "Didn't you market a stock issue of the Deming Food Products Company, around the end of last year?" "Most of the issue, yes. It's a subsidiary of Consolidated Securities. Why?" "Windsor intimated that there'd been something crooked about that stock--" "Oh, that's all old stuff," cut in Armstrong wearily. "You know all about it. Macgowan has tried to get indictments--" "Wake up, Armstrong!" snapped the banker curtly. "This is something else again--something different! Windsor swears that Macgowan has nothing to do with it--doesn't even know Mac by sight. Get this man right, or you'll make the mistake of your life! He's so straight that he'll fall over backward some day. And he's hot on your trail." Armstrong's curiosity was slightly stirred, no more. "Let him go as far as he likes. I've nothing to hide. He can come around here and go through the books if he likes." Todrank uttered a disgusted oath. "Damn it, that's just what he won't do! That's why I'm trying to warn you! He isn't going, either--he's gone! He appears to have a hatful of the most damning evidence against you. I don't know what it is, but if Tom Windsor thinks you're a crook--then look out. He's stubborn as the devil. I believe that Macgowan is in it somewhere, although Windsor laughed at the idea. I gave him the inside stuff on your fight, and he merely showed his teeth. "You wake up, now!" went on the banker earnestly. "This is serious. I gathered that the license to market the stock was gained under false pretenses--" Armstrong was stirred at last. "That was arranged by the former company. I only took over the issue and marketed it." "Well, there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere. Windsor thinks you're the nigger; I'm suspecting Macgowan of some hidden stuff. This is no fake, now; you can't afford to let it go through. If Windsor once gets action in the courts, he'll shove till hell freezes over, because he's absolutely honest. He's a fanatic in this respect, the most dangerous sort! He's got the goods, or he'd never talk as he did to me." "Why, confound it," burst out Armstrong, roused at last, "it's rankly impossible that he could have anything on me!"