"You're lucky, me lad. Well, I guess we're all set to go! Work out some plan of action with Mansfield. When I get Wren here, we'll start to use our heads; meantime, get Q. Adams to work." Armstrong had entered Robert Dorns' office with the feeling of a crushed and overwhelmed man fighting against fate. He left with something of his old self restored. Once more he was cool, level-headed, clear-brained. He was no longer daunted by his situation. The worst of the blow was past; now there remained to fight. At seven that evening, he entered the Union League Club. Mansfield joined him in the reception room, shook hands, and led him to the elevator. "Come to one of the library rooms, where we can talk in peace." In the small, narrow room where books crowded to the ceiling, Mansfield took one of the easy chairs across from Armstrong. Between them was the glass-topped table with its bronze fittings, its racks of writing equipment. Mansfield laid down cigars, settled himself comfortably. "I'm ready," he said laconically. Following the advice of Dorns, Armstrong repeated his tale as told to the detective, giving his story completely and briefly. He realized that Mansfield was studying him the while, though he could not tell what impressions the man gained. Quincy Adams Mansfield, one of the most celebrated yet least-known attorneys of the city, with a practice that was very exclusive, was a non-committal person. His manners were like Findlater's: authoritative, impervious, slightly offish. The great width of the eyes and brow, however, showed quite another sort of man here, and the steady gaze was deliberate and judicial. He said not a word until Armstrong had concluded. Then he spoke quietly. "That letter which Macgowan threatened to send out. You haven't it, I suppose?" When Armstrong felt in his pockets, Mansfield's brows lifted. He took the letter, glanced over it, then looked up. For the first time, his features warmed in the semblance of a smile. "I congratulate you on the possession of this letter," he said drily. "Why? It was only by chance that I retained it." "Really?" Mansfield laughed a little. "The cleverest man is bound to slip up; it is astonishing that Macgowan let you keep this letter. With it to aid us, we shall apply for the removal of Macgowan, Findlater and these other men from the control of Consolidated Securities, and ultimately we shall jail them for conspiracy and criminal extortion." Armstrong started. Fool that he was to call himself a lawyer! Undoubtedly this letter was actionable, yet he had preserved it by the merest chance. And Macgowan had been so filled with triumph that he had overlooked-- "It is regrettable," came the precise voice of Mansfield, "that you allowed yourself to be coerced, but I can quite understand your situation. There is no doubt that the charge of fraud and misrepresentation can be met by your own documents, and the testimony of your subordinates?"'