Armstrong sat staring before him, fingers twisting and gripping, his face seamed with drawn lines. All the cheerful, genial youth of him was crying out in agony of its hurt from a friend's hand; all the man of him was wrenched by the realization that another would reap where he had sowed, that he was in a moment robbed and despoiled of an institution to which he had dedicated his future life. The same stern self-repression which that morning had kept him from gripping Macgowan by the throat, now held him motionless, his body relaxed, his brain at work. Another man would have cursed. Reese Armstrong thought. One thing after another--petty and hitherto unregarded details uprose before his mind's eye in damning surety. How Macgowan had done this, had done that; how, for example, that voting trust had been renewed. Little things, yet all combining to show that Macgowan had planned his coup long ago. His confidence in Armstrong had been sincere; he had believed that Consolidated would succeed. Therefore he had laid his schemes, looking to the time when he might seize Consolidated. And now he had gripped his prey. But--why? That pretended distrust of Findlater and the other men! Armstrong flinched at the recollection. Even now, Macgowan and Findlater were chortling together over their easy conquest. All the time they had been playing a deep and crafty game, those two. But--to what end? Armstrong stiffened, as the truth smashed him squarely between the eyes. They had driven him out, they had shorn him of his power in Consolidated, they had bludgeoned his chief men and his sales organization--why? So that they could loot, of course. They had let him put Consolidated squarely on its feet. Now they would reap the benefit, careless of what later happened, careless whether Consolidated blew up, so long as they could loot--loot! And what would they loot? Not Consolidated alone. Not one solitary financial concern. This institution stood not by itself, but in it were bound up the faith and backing of sixteen thousand people. The company would be looted, and these investors would be looted. And these people had thought that their money would be handled conservatively, not juggled and played with! A shiver passed through Armstrong's body. Then his wide eyes came back to normal; his tensed muscles relaxed. A long breath came into his lungs. He had found the thing he needed, the mental spur, the point of departure. Macgowan had not waged his treacherous fight for the control of Consolidated Securities alone; not alone had he won the fat corporate funds, the subsidiary companies, the money-making powers. This crafty lawyer, who had not invested a single cent, had also captured sixteen thousand people, men and women--and they would be milled, robbed, looted to the very limit!