Jimmy Wren returned. He was contrite and exceedingly ashamed of his flight, without knowing exactly how it had come about, except that Macgowan's suggestions had prevailed. When he learned all that had happened, he set forth to hammer Macgowan with his fists; Armstrong checked this impulse with peremptory words, and Wren soon forgot past things in a furious rush of work that lasted into the next week. Indeed, this work involved in the change of offices was a godsend to Armstrong himself. For, even following Wren's return, he heard nothing from either Dorns or Mansfield. When he impatiently called up Mansfield, he was told to be patient and wait for further notice. And the notice did not come. This silence endured over the week-end and New Year's Day. To Armstrong, the suspense of those few days at length became horrible. The mere fact that he was doing nothing, taking no action against Macgowan, grew portentous in his mind beyond its true value. He could work out no plan of campaign until hearing further from Mansfield and Dorns; meantime, he had made a dozen plans and could go ahead with none of them. Doubts assailed him, strange doubts and suspicions of those two men. The deliberate unmasking of Macgowan had shaken his faith, shaken his confidence in himself and in his judgment of other men. He began to imagine that Dorns had lied to him, that Mansfield lacked interest. Perhaps Macgowan had approached them! This last thought terrified him. Nor was it an inconceivable thought. He knew now what had been going on during his absence in Evansville over Christmas. Nothing was seen of any postal inspectors at the new offices, nothing further was heard of any proceedings; yet Macgowan had set that investigation afoot, had caused it in Washington. The letter from Seattle had been a blind, a mere nothing, written at Macgowan's dictation. Armstrong was rapidly getting a true focus on the _modus operandi_ of his former friend. With work to occupy him, Armstrong was all right; out of the office, he became a prey to despondency. His initiative was blocked. He brooded over the silence of Dorns and Mansfield, tried to force his mind to other things, and succeeded only indifferently. In those black days it was Dorothy who kept him balanced, who restored the threatened loss of control and poise, devoting herself to meeting the danger. She kept his thoughts off Macgowan as much as possible. Before the arrival of her parents for a short visit preceding their trip to Europe, she insisted that Armstrong make no mention to the Demings of his altered affairs. "But I'd like to have your father's advice, Dot!" he expostulated.