He turned on his heel and went up to the office, where he found the noon mail on his desk. The first letter he opened was the resignation of his salesman for New York and New England, a man of exceptional ability, whose sales mounted to many car-loads a year, and whose customers were his customers, not those of the Ashe Clothespin Company. Winkleman could take them with him to whatever firm he had sold his services. Jim knew well Winkleman had not abandoned the woodenware trade—he had gone over to Welliver or some other of the enemy. Here, Jim recognized, was the shrewdest blow of the war. Jim went on opening his mail. Another letter was from Silvers, his Chicago representative. This man handled the product of Jim’s mills as a part of his brokerage business. He was able; no week passed that did not see at least one car-load consigned to him or to his customers. What’s up? (the letter said). Welliver wants me to drop you and come over to him. Says your goose is cooked and offers me an extra two and a half per cent. commission. Says you started this clothespin rumpus. Had a contract ready for me to sign, and wanted me to drop you unsight and unseen, I wouldn’t do it, but his offer is tempting. There was more to the communication, but here we have the heart of it. One blow followed another. The attack had commenced in earnest and Jim was on the defensive. He had declared war, but had not struck a blow. Now he must act swiftly, intelligently, efficiently. First he wired Silvers: Won’t meet Welliver’s offer. We’re sound. If you can’t stick by us in fight don’t want you anyhow. Want men can depend on. Wire answer. Next he called in Grierson. “What percentage of our business is in New York and New England?” he asked. “A quarter, maybe.” “Who sells heaviest there?” “Plum and Mannikin.” “One of them has hired away Winkleman.” Grierson made a crisp, crackling sound with his lips. It indicated dismay. Jim smiled grimly. “We’re going to increase our Eastern business,” he said. “We haven’t pushed it as we might, just as those Eastern factories haven’t pushed for orders in the West. But we’re going to. We’re going after all we can get anywhere we can get it. It’s three o’clock. I want you to catch the six-o’clock train for Buffalo. Then New York and Boston. Go and pack. By the time you’re back here I’ll have your instructions ready for you.” “But, Mr. Ashe—” “Hustle,” said Jim. It was Sudden Jim speaking now. In an hour Grierson was back, dubious, flustered.