Armstrong accompanied Jimmy Wren to the station, and saw him off. The last state of that young man was considerably better than the first; whereas he had arrived an hour previously in the depths of violent and nervous panic, he departed beaming, radiating assured optimism. "Jimmy's all right," thought Armstrong, as he went home from the station. "That devil Findlater simply knew how to drive him frantic, and did it! No wonder the whole office bunch is scared. The threat of indictment is enough to scare anybody who isn't absolutely sure of his standing. We'll soon show Findlater where he gets off!" When Armstrong reached home, Dorothy was waiting for him, and drew him back upstairs to the library. He perceived that she was very serious; but not until they were alone behind the closed doors did she speak. Then, turning to him, she took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. "Well?" he asked, smiling. "Jimmy hasn't scared you, too?" "No. Reese, there's something I must say to you now--no, I shan't sit on your lap! I have to keep my head clear, and if your arms are around me I can't think of anything else. Listen, dear! Do you remember our wedding day?" "I hope so," returned Armstrong whimsically. "Don't you?" But her serious, grave eyes did not respond to his flippancy. "Macgowan was talking to me, Reese, just before that meeting here in the library. He went out of his way to say something to me that was quite needless. Now, it wasn't at all what he said, but what I could read in his mind as he said it that made me afraid of him. What he said, made me cry. What I could sense in his thought and his soul, frightened me!" Armstrong was frowning. "Why, lady, this is the first time you ever mentioned such a thing! Surely Mac didn't--" "He said nothing that was wrong, dear; but from that day I have feared him. Intuition, if you like. And now I want to warn you against him. That man is no friend of yours, Reese. He's using you for his own purposes. Don't trust him! Don't let him know your secrets! Be on your guard against him, always!" Armstrong looked into her eyes, and for a moment her intense earnestness shook him to the very depths. Then his reason asserted itself. He remembered other things. Could this be a touch of jealousy? It could be nothing else. "Dear lady," he said gently, clasping her hands in his, "I owe a great deal to Lawrence Macgowan. You don't ask that I break with him sharply, for no definite reason?" "No, no!" she said, and caught her breath. "Oh, Reese! It's for your sake--that's all. I've nothing to go on. I can only feel, just as I have felt from the first, that there is something--something treacherous and deadly, in him! I don't want to make trouble between you. All I ask is that you be on your guard against him."