With everything tied up by the attachment, it was impossible for Armstrong to raise the money necessary to meet that note. But that was not the worst of it. Macgowan did not want the ten thousand in cash; he had filed this suit, had played his cards, so that Armstrong could not possibly pay the money. What Macgowan wanted was the security, the Food Products notes for twenty-five thousand dollars! That was the stake Macgowan would win at noon to-morrow. "He'll have his fingers hooked into Food Products," thought Armstrong bitterly. "He may try to throw the company into receivership--no telling what he'll do! And unless I show up at the auction rooms by noon, he wins." How to get that money? His imagination pictured what would meet him as he went from bank to bank, asking for ten thousand in cash--without security! Macgowan would see to it that news of this suit and attachment filled all the morning papers. Everywhere he went, Armstrong would be faced by that news. He would be charged publicly with fraud, branded in all eyes as a perjurer and trickster; the whole financial district would be ringing with the news. No matter how baseless the charge, it would clang against him like a death-knell. It would be dismissed soon enough, after serving its purpose; even so, lies have nine lives, and the story of the charge would go further than news of the dismissal. "I've got to do everything between ten and twelve to-morrow," said Armstrong, turning from the fire. "I expect I'll find mighty few friends anxious to be interviewed to-morrow morning--it takes small noise to flush the bird of credit. Well, I'll go down fighting!" CHAPTER VIII Armstrong entered his own office a little after nine in the morning, crushing a newspaper in his hand; what he had read there had rendered him livid with helpless anger. He found Jimmy Wren awaiting him. "Hello!" exclaimed Wren. "I saw Mansfield last night. He said that he'd attend to releasing this attachment by this afternoon anyhow. There's a check from Food Products in the mail, but we can't use it; everything tied up." Armstrong only nodded, and handed Wren a penciled list of names. "Call up these fellows, Jimmy, or their secretaries, and make appointments for me between ten and twelve this morning. Spread the appointments as well as you can. If I don't raise that ten thousand--" "As bad as that, is it?"' asked Jimmy Wren, his eyes anxious. "You're borrowing?" "How the devil can I get it without?" "Well, I sort of figured on that last night." Jimmy Wren came to the desk, and began to disgorge bills from his pockets. He looked up at the astounded Armstrong with a grin. "I'm darned sorry I couldn't do better, Reese. Here's twelve hundred to throw into the pot, anyhow." For an instant Armstrong was speechless. Then: "By gad, Jimmy! You can't mean--where did you get this cash?" Wren colored slightly.