From the walls around looked down the pictured features of princes and artists, men of wealth or dignity, distinguished folk in all walks of life. These pictures were inscribed to the hard-eyed old man behind the desk--Robert Dorns. Some of them he had protected, some of them he had saved, some of them he had merely served. For this man, whose name had been famous for a generation past, life had no illusions whatever; the husks of pretense were stripped away before that bitter eye of his, and he perceived only realities. Behind that powerful, almost brutal, face was a head of intellectual power. In that brain reposed secrets unguessed, facts which, if revealed, would menace and shake the structure of politics and finance. This man would never have the satisfaction of writing his memoirs; for his memoirs, if written, would betray the world. Armstrong was in this office for an hour. In that hour, he accomplished the greatest feat of his career--a feat which few other men could have duplicated. In the face of every cynical doubt and mistrust which must have attacked his listener, he "sold" Robert Dorns, absolutely and beyond cavil. He used no appeals, made no arguments, until he had told his story. Dorns, chewing on a cigar, said not a word until Armstrong had finished. Then: "Going through with it for the sake of the investors, huh? Who's paying the cost of the fight--if you win?" "I am," said Armstrong. "I'll make it plain that I'm not fighting to get any office in Consolidated; I want none. My stock will give me control, and that's all I want--unless I have to turn over that stock. But that stock is tied up for another three months in the voting trust, Macgowan must be blocked somehow." "Humph!" grunted Dorns, the hard eyes boring into him. "D'you know that you're up against a real fight? You are, me lad; no mistake about it. This bird Macgowan, now--I know him. He's hand in fist with Tammany, and likewise with Albany; any lad who can play both ends o' that game is a slick one! What've ye got to fight him with?" "The trust that sixteen thousand people have in me," said Armstrong simply. The bitter eyes stared at him, a slow wonder stirring in their depths. Then came a startling and incredible speech. "Either you're a damned fool--or you're somethin' big. And you're no fool, me lad. I'm with you, win, lose or draw. If we lose, I'll take no fee; you're the first man in years who has come for my help in an unselfish cause. I'm with you, and I'm damned proud to be with you, me lad!" Armstrong had not expected such a speech. The unsuspected quality he had evoked from this man left him wordless, unable to respond. "Now," said Dorns with his incisive crispness, "are you going into this thing alone?" "Not if I can help it." Armstrong smiled faintly. "I've learned my lesson. I'll need all the assistance I can get." "You'll want the best lawyer in the city. Got anybody?"