"Blamed if I know," said Evarts bluntly. "Because I couldn't quite get you as a crook, I guess. Wired you twice yesterday--no answer. I've been working like hell, going over letters and records. Can't find a thing wrong. I don't know what the postal men have found wrong either. But Mac says things look pretty bad for us all." "Mac?" Armstrong looked up. "Findlater, you mean. It was Findlater who got Jimmy Wren filled up with dope. It was Findlater who started this mess!" Evarts lifted his brows. "Maybe so. But it's Mac who has done the talking, and he's done a lot of it in the last day or two! That's what scared the guts out of us all. And it's Mac who sent Wren on to Tampa and is getting his passports to Europe." Armstrong, bewildered and angry, held himself in check by an effort. "I ordered Jimmy to call a directors' meeting for eleven to-day. Did he do it?" "Yes. Findlater mentioned it last night. He and Mac were talking about it." "Evarts, either you're crazy or I am. Your talk about Macgowan is past me." Armstrong reached for his telephone. "I'll get Mac over here and--" "He's in Findlater's office now." "Go get him, will you?" Evarts disappeared. Armstrong lighted a cigar and began to pace up and down the room, furiously disconcerted. He could not understand what had happened or who was his enemy. He was baffled. Then the door opened and he swung around. On the threshold was Macgowan, debonair as ever, some papers in his hand. Evarts was about to enter when Macgowan dismissed him with a gesture. Armstrong promptly interfered. "Hold on! Evarts, come along in. Now, Mac, what's been going on here?" "Reese, this is something for private discussion--" "Not by a damned sight! I've nothing to discuss in private," exploded Armstrong. "You come in, Evarts. Now, Mac, let's have the whole thing." After momentary hesitation, Macgowan shrugged slightly and came forward to the desk. He calmly drew up a chair and seated himself, disposed his papers before him, and produced a cigar and lighted it. Then, casually looking up, he invited Armstrong to be seated. In this instant, Armstrong beheld a new Lawrence Macgowan. Gone was all the genial amiability of the man. Gone was the brilliant warmth from his eyes, now cold and hard and piercing, bitterly masterful. Out of those eyes there looked the real Macgowan--a predatory, merciless man of steel and iron, armed and ready for battle. The sight of this face struck Armstrong like a blow. He sat down, wondering yet not suspecting. "I thought, Mac, that you had attended to this Washington investigation?" "I did. If you want it straight, I caused it." As he spoke, Macgowan met the gaze of Armstrong with a cold, sneering challenge in his eyes. The deliberate cruelty of that regard, its insolent brutality, gave Armstrong a swift premonition of the truth, staggered him with its force. Macgowan went on smoothly.