"Good!" said Wren, his mouth full. "Fine! I'll do it. But I haven't any money, Reese; I haven't the price of a ticket back! I came away in a rush--" Armstrong laughed, and glanced at Dorothy. "Dear, will you be good enough to get my pocketbook? I think it's on the dresser." Dorothy nodded, rose, and left the room. Armstrong's manner had had its effect upon her too; her pallor had departed, and as she left, she threw a reassuring smile back at Jimmy Wren. Suddenly the latter started, looking up at Armstrong with new consternation. "Reese--I forgot about it--meant to write you! It has nothing to do with this affair, but it's something you ought to know. I found it out the day after you left, while I was going through everything, trying--" "Cool off, Jimmy. What is it?" Armstrong passed a cigar across the table. "Light that first, then spill the news. Discovered something?" Wren nodding, lighted his cigar. "You remember that when we put Food Products stock on the market, we simply went ahead and used the issue that Deming's directors had arranged for? They had secured licenses from the blue sky commissioners everywhere, you know." Armstrong silently assented, his gaze on Wren. "Well, I found something. In getting those licenses, Deming's directorate had sworn to facts regarding the financial condition of the old company which were untrue. About those assets we wrote off, among other things. They concealed the real shape of the company, in other words." A whistle broke from Armstrong. "Sure of that, Jimmy?" "Positive. Nobody knows it, and probably it won't amount to anything. I asked Mac about it. He said to keep mum; that the Armstrong Company was not involved, and that we couldn't be held responsible for what Deming's directors had done. Besides, he thought there would never be any fuss made over it." "Mac spoke the truth that time." Armstrong smiled. "This is the first I ever knew of it, but there's nothing to be done. That directorate was a sweet bunch of crooks, all right! We've nothing to fear from that angle, fortunately. Well, forget it! You get back to New York and don't let any one but Mac know that I'll be there Wednesday morning." "Throw Findlater out, eh?" queried Wren, his eyes snapping excitedly. "Neck and heels. Clear into the alley." Dorothy returned, and Armstrong handed Wren a roll of bills. "I've ordered a taxi," said Dorothy. "It'll be here in five minutes." "Good for you, Mrs. Armstrong!" Jimmy Wren broke into a laugh. "I'm mighty sorry for the way I must have startled you. I was in a panic, that's all." "Got over it now?" demanded Armstrong, his eyes twinkling. "You bet! I must have been a fool to let Findlater work me up that way."