Barely in time, he mastered himself, controlled the impulse, sank back into his chair. Perhaps it was not wholly true, not so bad as he thought. Perhaps Macgowan was sincere. "You can't mean this, Mac!" That hurt and stricken voice made the other man wince for an instant. "You know how false all these charges are. If that letter went out--why, it'd mean ruin for me, no matter how it ended! That letter, sent out by my own company, would finish me! You haven't betrayed me, Mac? You're not trying to chuck me out--" "You poor hick!" Macgowan took this appeal for weakness. His voice seared like acid. "We're tired of your altruistic vaporings. We've endured your bombastic dreams long enough. We're going to take over this concern on a business basis. Here's another paper you may also sign; an agreement to turn over your Consolidated stock to us. The best thing you can do is to fade out quietly. This meeting at eleven will blow you up if you don't." Armstrong quivered under the scornful words. Then, raging, he came to his feet. "All right! Let's have the meeting--" Macgowan's cold smile froze the speech on his lips. "Reese, I'll vote your stock in the best interest of the company. I have Jimmy Wren's resignation as secretary. He has empowered me to assume his interest in the voting trust, though I don't need it, since I'll vote with Findlater." The voting trust! Armstrong sank back into his chair, doubting no longer; and the will to fight broke asunder within him. Macgowan had betrayed him, with deliberate cold-blooded planning. Armstrong could not vote his own stock. Though Macgowan and Findlater together could control the voting trust. Jimmy Wren was safely out of the way--got rid of! Armstrong had been stripped of every helper, every aid. From this instant, Reese Armstrong felt himself lost beyond recovery. He had been lured into a trap from which there was no escape, no possible rescue. A frightful despair overwhelmed him--it was Macgowan who had done this thing. Macgowan! There was the paralyzing factor. Not the lies, not the hatred and intrigue, not the threats and falsity around him, could prevail--but the treachery of his friend. A profound melancholy gripped him, and he could not fight it away. Oblivious of those cruelly exultant eyes across the desk, oblivious of the wondering stare of Evarts, he lowered his head and stared at the papers before him, with eyes that saw not. He was absolutely in the power of Macgowan; there was no hope, for he had depended upon nobody else. Macgowan, joined to Findlater, held him powerless. Trusted and given authority, Macgowan could ruin him--had already done so! Swung against him, the voting trust would smash him, and that letter from the directors would make his ruin public.