The receiver banged on its hook at the other end of the line. He was alone. Washington vanished, glowing dreams of the future gave place to the grim reality of the present. The Federal authorities!... He had considered them negligible. Somehow one lost sight of the Federal government in that remote region; they were unfamiliar; it seemed a spot to which their writ did not run. He tried to consider the fact coolly and calmly, but his brain refused to function in such a manner. He was confused; the suddenness, the unexpectedness of the blow from such a source shook him from his foundations. What did it mean? How had it come about.... Clearly, if Jenney was under arrest, he could not complete his raid on the Lakeside Hotel and so abolish Carmel Lee.... That was that.... But how did it affect him? How did it affect the thousands of dollars’ worth of liquor so necessary to his financial rehabilitation?... The big question--was he threatened personally?--was one he could not answer. There had been no sign of threat. Jenney was arrested. Perhaps they did not mean to arrest him, had no evidence against him.... But could Jenney be depended upon to keep his mouth shut?... Jenney, he confessed to himself, did not seem a man capable of great loyalty, nor possessed of high courage. He would weaken. Under pressure he would tell all he knew.... The advice of the voice over the telephone was good. He would look out for himself.... He rushed up the stairs to make ready for flight. It would be a good idea to absent himself, no matter what happened. If worst came to worst--why, he would be out of reach of the law. If matters turned out otherwise it would be easy to return from a hurried business trip.... He began packing frantically. Having packed, he went to the safe in his library and transferred sufficient funds to his pocketbook. Then, as a precautionary measure, he carefully destroyed certain private papers.... This consumed time. The telephone rang again, and Abner answered in no little trepidation. “Mr. Fownes?” asked a voice. “Yes. Who is it?” “Tucker.... Say, the mob’s burned Lakeside Hotel. They’ve got Peewee.... Burned her up slick and clean--and everythin’ in it. The whole shipment’s gone....” Fownes dropped the receiver and sank nerveless into a chair. At any rate, he was ruined. That much was certain. Nothing remained to fight for now but his personal security, his liberty. He snatched up his bag and moved toward the door.... His plan was not clear--only the first step of it. He would rent an automobile and drive out of town with what speed was possible.... As he reached the door he realized with a sudden sharp pang that he was leaving his house for good, leaving Gibeon forever. He, Abner Fownes, first citizen, man of substance, was fleeing from his native place like the commonest criminal.