February drew on apace, arrived, began to spend its length.
Armstrong was healthily busy, up to his ears in work; with each day
the fight proved more drawn-out. The campaign against Findlater and
Macgowan swept along steadily. The financial press was full of it,
even the newspapers were airing the affair; and Macgowan, beyond flat
denials of all the charges, was keeping quiet.
His quiet was ominous.
The Armstrong Company was now completely reorganized as a financial
service corporation, restricted to New York and seaboard cities. For
the moment, Armstrong was forced to forget Macgowan and give his
energies to putting the Armstrong Company on its feet, able to get
along under Wren's management. As soon as counter blows began to
smash home he would have to sweep aside all else; so, for the
present, he worked over the Armstrong Company, flinging himself into
it with driving energy. In one of its offices was domiciled the
Stockholders' Protective Association, under its committee of three.
With every day that passed, Armstrong found himself more impressed
with Mansfield's advice as to this committee. Judge Holcomb had
entered the fight with the ardor of a boy; a jurist of the highest
integrity, a financier intimately associated with men in high places,
he was invaluable. So, too, was Bruton--a man whom Macgowan could
not possibly attack on any grounds. As for Rupert Sessions, a fiery
but scholarly publicist and lecturer--Armstrong could not but feel
sufficiently grateful for the chance which had flung such a man to
his support.
Sessions had outlined a campaign for the month of March which would
reach every investor. His broadside letters were already causing a
sensation. It was as a direct result of one of these letters, that
Armstrong was one afternoon hastily summoned to a conference with the
committee. He found them gravely discussing a telegram which had
just arrived from Mansfield in Albany.
"Armstrong," said Judge Holcomb, with a grim smile, "you recall that
last letter Session sent out?"
"Yes." Armstrong chuckled at the memory. "About the National
Reduction Company which Consolidated has undertaken to finance. You
certainly called a spade a spade, Sessions! And right, too; this
private graft of Findlater's is bound to be a failure, so far as the
stockholders are concerned."
"Findlater will file suit to-morrow for a hundred thousand in
damages, also asking punitive damages. Libel."
Armstrong grunted sarcastically.
"Let him file! It's all he can do to save his face, judge. I'll
guarantee to pay all the damages he'll ever collect, too."
"Oh, the suit will never go to trial." Sessions took up a telegram.
"But see here, Armstrong! This is what we called you in for. We'll
have bad news to send out next week."
Armstrong took the message and read it.
The attorney general of the state had refused to institute suit for
removal of Findlater and Macgowan. At the hearing, a certain lawyer
famed for his political affiliations--not named in the telegram--had
obtained the dismissal of the action, on the technical ground that
Consolidated Securities had been organized under the laws of South
Dakota; and therefore being a foreign corporation, was not amenable
to the New York jurisdiction.
"Check," said Armstrong quietly, giving no sign of his
disappointment. "Well, we were warned that we were up against
politics! You can make capital of this, Sessions. The dismissal is
purely technical and does not clear Macgowan. This simply saves them
from producing the books--play up their refusal to stand
investigation! They're not vindicated by this; they're merely
relieved."
While still speaking, he was summoned to the telephone. He sat down
at a desk near by.
"Armstrong? Robert Dorns on the wire. Say, Findlater and Macgowan
have quarreled; it don't amount to much, but it's a symptom. Do you
know a fellow over there named Henderson?"
"Yes. Assistant treasurer of Consolidated. A good man, too. What
about him?"
"I think he'd like to quit his job. Suppose we make him an offer if
he'll quit and bring his copies of records--"
"See here, Dorns, none of that!" snapped Armstrong angrily, while the
committee eyed him in startled wonder. "I'll not pay out one cent of
bribery for anything--and I don't think Henderson is the sort who'd
take a bribe. Did he suggest that?"
"No. I thought it up all by my own little self, me lad. S'pose we
pry him loose?"
"All right. In that case, I can use him here. He can give us more
inside dope on Consolidated's doings than any one else. But not a
cent for bribery, understand! If Henderson would take any money for
coming over here, I'd not have him and I'd not trust him. We just
had word from Mansfield. The suit is dismissed on technical grounds."
"Political, you mean. All right. So long."
Armstrong swung around to meet the intent gaze of Judge Holcomb.
"Henderson is leaving Consolidated?"
"Dorns thinks he can be persuaded to leave."
"Then things are coming well. Henderson can give us all the details
we need. Well, when do you look for an attack from Macgowan?"
"When we least expect it."
The attack came soon enough, with a savage disregard for truth.
Macgowan, indeed, had perforce to disregard truth if he were to make
any attack.
As secretary and treasurer, Macgowan was the real head of
Consolidated Securities. This was a crafty move, for it outwardly
relegated Macgowan to the background and left Findlater to enjoy his
prominence as president--and also to bear the brunt of attack from
the Protective Association.
This arrangement had other uses, also. Macgowan's law firm or firms,
for he was interested in more than one, could profit largely, while
Macgowan himself drew a thousand a month for his personal services.
Thus the cream of the loot fell to Macgowan. Findlater, although
recompensing himself in full, had at least some idea of retaining
Consolidated as a going concern. Macgowan, more shrewd and crafty,
knew better--knew that some day his joy-ride must come to an end.
Findlater did not take in just how far he was serving as a tool in
the cunning hand of his associate.
He was only too well aware, however, of Macgowan's dictatorial
manner, and resented it.
Thus, when the attack on Armstrong and the Protective Association was
opened, the guns were fired by Findlater, as president of
Consolidated. A full broadside was delivered; a broadside of calumny
which even extended to Doctor Bruton and Rupert Sessions, but which
was aimed at Armstrong. By the very audacity of its charges and
vilifications it was calculated to stagger its recipients. It came
in the form of a _Consolidated Magazine_, sent out to investors
generally as a reply to the _Armstrong Review_ the house organ of the
Armstrong Company, which was at present being used by the Association
committee.
Macgowan had employed writers of some talent, and under cover of
Findlater's name he went the limit. Adopting a tone of dignified
censure, the president set forth that the Armstrong Company had been
"discharged" as the fiscal agent of Consolidated; he gave copies of
the affidavits which had "caused" the postal investigation; he
charged that Armstrong and his hirelings were now attacking
Consolidated for the purpose of getting at its funds. In effect, the
charges made by Armstrong were simply turned back on him, yet with no
more evidence than truth.
The result was well calculated, however, to impress the small
investor. Covert attacks were made upon the integrity of the
Association committee. A special article, venomously penned,
purported to set forth Armstrong's biography--a combination of actual
untruths and of innuendoes which made Armstrong first laugh, then
whiten with fury.
He laid the matter before Mansfield, who glanced through the articles
and then smiled.
"Well? I suppose we'll file libel suits immediately?"
"Of course," said Armstrong. "But more--get an injunction against
Findlater at once, to prevent his using this magazine to serve his
own ends. It bears the name of Consolidated and is company property.
Also, prevent his using company funds for the same purpose. If he is
going to present his personal affairs to the investors, let him pay
for it himself!"
"Good!" exclaimed Mansfield. "A good point! We'll do it; he can't
keep us from getting that injunction. This publication appears to be
a tissue of falsehood, too."
"It is, from start to finish."
"Congratulations, Mr. Armstrong! We have them badly scared, or they
would never go to such lengths. This libelous matter is astounding!"
"It shows that we've scared them, all right," assented Armstrong.
"Also, it shows that Macgowan is trying to discredit me and is going
after proxies for the annual meeting. Mansfield, isn't there any
earthly way of smashing that voting trust?"
The lawyer shook his head. "No. And I am afraid that, as we feared,
Macgowan will find some way of postponing its expiration until after
the meeting. That would enable him to remain in power for another
year, of course."
Armstrong's lips contracted for an instant.
"Then we must get enough investors behind us to override his control.
We'll do it. We have two thousand of them now enrolled in the
Association, and our real campaign doesn't open until March--another
week yet. You've filed suit against 'em in South Dakota?"
"Yes. Your own company is organized under the laws of that state, I
believe?"
"It is; they were both organized at the same time. By the way,
there's something I want to ask you about--"
Armstrong had not forgotten the information which Jimmy Wren had laid
before him, that day when Wren turned up in Evansville. He now told
Mansfield how the Deming Food Products Company had been taken over
and reorganized. He went on to relate Wren's discovery--that
Deming's directors, probably without Deming's knowledge, had sworn to
a false financial condition in obtaining licenses to market their
stock issue.
"Can Macgowan rake that up against us in any possible way?" he
concluded. "At the time the licenses were issued, we had nothing to
do with Food Products, you know."
"No; you're entirely safe there, I think," promptly declared
Mansfield. "Don't let it worry you for a minute--it has nothing
whatever to do with you."
There was something else, however, which in the rush of business
Armstrong had quite forgotten. Upon the following Monday, the last
Monday in February, he was reminded of his delinquency in abrupt and
terrible fashion.
By this time the fight between Findlater and the Protective
Association was not only public property but was being keenly
followed by banking circles and kindred interests. Among all these
there was a cynically lucid understanding of the real issue; it was
no secret to them that the struggle lay between looters and honest
men. Yet they looked on with a phlegmatic acuity; it was to them
only another battle wherein the dreamer would probably lose to the
clever fighter who knew how to hit foul and hard.
Armstrong knew this. He felt that he knew exactly how to appraise
the spoken word from his bankers, his friends, his acquaintances. In
this he was wrong; he was still too conscious of himself and his
campaign, and it tended to give him a false view. A man is at his
best only when he can forget himself. His best work is done only
when his "office clothes" are forgotten.
On this eventful Monday, Armstrong was taken unawares, in a moment of
self-consciousness.
He took the day off, for it was his birthday, and spent it quietly at
home with Dorothy before going into the city in the evening for
_Lohengrin_. Before a blazing log fire in the wide hearth of the
living room that afternoon, he was recounting to Dorothy the
prospects for the final few weeks of the campaign; he had given up
hope of ousting Findlater and Macgowan before the annual meeting.
Then, in the gathering dusk, a caller arrived, a stranger. Armstrong
had the man shown in.
He found himself promptly served with a sheriff's attachment notice.
Suit for two millions in damages--a new suit--had been filed against
the Armstrong Company by Findlater, on trumped-up charges of fraud,
deceit, slander. Almost at the same moment he was summoned to the
telephone, to hear the furious voice of Wren. The offices, bank
accounts, mail receipts, files--all were tied up by the attachment.
Further, unless Armstrong's note for ten thousand dollars, held by
Consolidated, were paid in cash by noon of the following day, the
security for that note would be sold, promptly at noon, at the weekly
auction sales in Vesey Street.
Then Armstrong remembered the thing he had forgotten--the renewal of
this loan, which had come due. Food Products had not been heard from
in regard to it.
"Get in touch with Mansfield at once," he told Jimmy Wren. "The suit
is only an excuse to tie us up so we can't get the cash to meet this
note. They got the attachment because we're a foreign corporation,
and Mansfield will get it released in a day or two. You attend to
that. I'm going to have my hands full raising ten thousand in cash."
He made light of it to Dorothy, assuaged her alarm and indignation,
pointed out the utter absurdity of the charges, and packed her off to
dress for dinner and opera. But he remained staring into the fire,
his face set in drawn lines.
Crafty Macgowan! This blow had driven home. The morning papers,
hungry for news from this financial battle, would headline the filing
of this suit.
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!"