She smiled as she denied this request. "You poor boy, you've been traveling like mad for two days! I want you to go home and sleep, not come downtown and fuss around a railroad station when we could only see each other for a minute." "By gad," exclaimed Wren, "I don't see why you have to go chasing off to Tampa like this, just at the time I need you most! You don't know how much it means to me to be able to come up here and talk with you--why, it gets me into another world! A touch of music, and your understanding of everything--" "Confession is good for the soul, they say," and she laughed lightly. "I don't know, for I'm such an insignificant little person that I haven't much to confess. No, Jimmy, I must leave for Tampa to-night; I have some property down there that has to be attended to at once. Why don't you take a vacation and run down to Florida too?" "You know why." Jimmy Wren shook his head. "Well, there's going to be a battle around these parts when Armstrong comes, that's all! You'll only be gone a couple of weeks? That's one good thing." "You'll write me how things go with you?" "You bet! Maybe, with Armstrong and Macgowan in action, everything will be settled very quickly. You don't know Macgowan?"' "I have just met him." Mrs. Fowler carefully shook the ash from her cigarette. "He seems to be a very charming sort of man. I know that Harry Lorenz thinks highly of him." "So does everybody," said Jimmy Wren. "Even Armstrong, who takes advice from mighty few men, listens with all his ears to Mac." "He's on your side in this fight, isn't he?" "Who, Mac? You bet he is. I wish I could be as certain of the outcome as Armstrong is! There's a real man, I tell you. Mighty few like him alive!" Mrs. Fowler sighed. "I wish I could encourage you, Jimmy dear," she said softly. "But you see, I know so much about this man Findlater and his associates!" "Eh?" Jimmy Wren looked up at her. "You know him?" "Not personally, no. But I do wish that you had almost any other man in town to fight against! They say that Henry C. Findlater never opens battle until he has all his wires laid--and then he simply blows up his opponents." "He'll have a hard job blowing us up," said Wren, but the worried and anxious look began to creep back about his eyes. "Let's hope so! You know, Jimmy, he's said to be in pretty strong with the political crowd, both here and upstate. He's no giant himself, I gather, but he's in with the big ones. Wasn't there some story about his having such a strong pull that he once landed a prominent banker in the penitentiary--just because the poor man differed with him?" "I don't know," murmured Wren. "Never heard it. Henry C. is a poor pill, himself." "Never underestimate an enemy, particularly in New York, Jimmy--but there! All this is silly. You'll win out, of course, and when I come home we'll celebrate the victory. Shall we?"