Armstrong left, confident that he had done all that was humanly possible. If the stubborn Windsor still refused an interview, things could take their course and be damned to them. Whatever evolved from this tangled skein, Armstrong felt that no great harm could be done him. And he could not forget that, only a few hours and miles away, was Dorothy. "If I fail to-morrow, I'll jump the next train to Evansville and see her," he said to himself, as he walked the streets that afternoon. "Perhaps time has softened her--at least, she may give me a calm hearing. Confound it all, what have I done that I should have to go about the country begging for hearings! It's outrageous, it's damnable!" Back at the hotel, his mood passed again into one of despair, for loneliness took hold upon him. It seemed that he was engaged in an interminable struggle in which he achieved only new defeat at every turn. The amazing insolence of Macgowan was insuperable; the man was a very Antæus, rising from every onset with fresh strength and new cunning. At length, dreading the return of his old despondent apathy, Armstrong forced himself to a moving picture theater, which afforded him an hour of mental relief and sent him to bed with the issue of things confided to the knees of the morrow's gods. At eight-thirty on Tuesday morning, Armstrong was nervously pacing his room when the door was flung open and Robert Dorns entered, unannounced. At the same instant, the telephone rang; with a gesture to Dorns, Armstrong turned quickly to the instrument. "Yes, this is Mr. Armstrong--" "The commissioner speaking, sir. I've just seen Mr. Windsor. I regret to say that he refuses absolutely to see you." Armstrong turned and shot a glance at Dorns, watching and listening. "He refuses, eh? Does he give any reason?" "None. I'm sorry." Armstrong hung up the receiver, and with a gesture of despair turned about. Dorns eyed him, produced a cigar, bit on it. "Back, is he?" "Yes. No chance." "Huh! Had breakfast?" "Yes." "So've I. Let's go! I want to get this thing cleaned up and catch a noon train East. Got to be in New York to-morrow night sure. Come on! This bird sees us inside of ten minutes." Armstrong shrugged, caught up his hat, and followed Dorns. They found a taxicab at the hotel entrance. Dorns growled at the driver. "Statehouse. Make it quick." Neither man spoke for a moment, until suddenly Dorns reached out, violently struck Armstrong's knee, and looked the startled Armstrong in the eye.