Dorothy had greatly desired to accompany Armstrong to Wilmington;
for, though she said nothing of it to him, a premonition of evil was
strong upon her. But nature denied the wish. Dorothy was given to
sudden spells of illness, and her physical condition was becoming
manifest. Further, she quite realized the danger to her of a tense
emotional and nervous strain for days on end, such as this meeting
would involve. Reluctantly, she stayed at home.
On the day of the meeting, Armstrong left very early. She went with
him to the station, walking up and down as they waited for the train.
On this day of all days, she wanted to send forth her husband with
the full and perfect assurance of her love, with no drag of domestic
anxiety to weaken his efforts. Yet, somewhere in the shadows of her
being, those casual words of her mother's lingered and recurred to
her mind; why it was, she refused to admit to herself.
"I'm uneasy about Jimmy Wren," said Armstrong, as they paced up and
down. "I'm afraid he's tied up with some woman, and I don't like his
close-mouthed ways about it. It's not natural for Jimmy to be
reticent."
"Jimmy!" exclaimed Dorothy quickly. "What woman?"
"That's just the point--I'm not even sure that the guess is right.
But he's not been himself lately. I heard him getting a curb opinion
out of Mansfield the other day, on the divorce laws in this state,
and I know he bought some confoundedly expensive French perfume last
week. He's been running into debt, too."
Dorothy halted. "Reese! Surely you don't think--"
"There's nothing wrong, if that's what you mean; Jimmy is square and
clean. But he's just the man to get hooked by some gold-digger.
Well, I'll see about it later if the chance comes--there's the
train!" Armstrong turned and kissed her quickly. "Take good care of
yourself, now! If you need me, call the Wilmington office; Wren will
be in charge there and can get me in a hurry. I'll call you up every
day, at noon and evening, and let you know how things go."
"There's only one way for them to go. Good-by, dear, and luck!"
She stood waving after him until the train had gone, then returned to
the car. Her mind was busy with Jimmy Wren, and in the days that
followed she wondered more than once about him, until more tragically
important affairs drove him from her thoughts.
Two days passed, and Reese Armstrong made uneventful reports to her
from Wilmington. The meeting was going slowly. Nothing would be
done until after the roll call of the stockholders was taken, which
would be on the third or fourth day. So far everything was
excellent, and the Protective Association apparently in decisive
control.
Upon the morning of the third day, while Dorothy was dressing,
Slosson arrived at Aircastle Point.
Dorothy had passed a bad night, and her nerves were quivering. In
her dreams, the voice of her mother had again whispered that old
doubt. She no longer had any great fear that any mental obsession
would take hold of her, and this was a bad sign. Had Reese actually
driven her father out of Food Products? She was wondering now, this
morning, whether she should bring up the whole matter with Reese, as
soon as his Wilmington battle was over; she felt that he must be
absolutely cleared in the eyes of every one, Williams and the rest.
This, at least, was her conscious thought.
She had no doubt that everything would be explained. She told
herself that her love and faith in Reese were supreme, and she
believed it. None the less, the mental reflex of her physical
condition was a curious one--and one that she did not realize.
It was at this moment that Slosson arrived. Dorothy heard his name
with astonishment.
"At this hour! What does he want?"
"He asked for Mr. Armstrong, and seemed a good deal put out to learn
he was gone," said the maid. "Then he asked for you. He says it's
extremely important."
"Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes."
Dorothy turned to her mirror, wondering at this unheralded call from
Pete Slosson.
Instantly there darted into her remembrance the thought of how
Slosson had spoken that day at the Waldorf--his manner, rather than
his words themselves. He had been so anxious to smooth over her
mother's innocent remark, that he must have known more than he said.
"I wish now I'd made him say more," reflected Dorothy, giving her
hair a final pat. "He seemed genuinely uneasy that day. There was
always a lot of good in Pete, for all his reckless ways, and now he
seems to have settled down--"
She smiled at the reflection which told of her beauty, and there was
wonder in her smile, too. For Dorothy was one of those rare women
who do not lose, but gain, by the added life within them, and never
had the fine, clear lines of her face been so filled with a spiritual
grace as now.
Pete Slosson was striding restlessly up and down the living room when
she found him. At sight of her, he turned. There was no mistaking
the light that sprang into his face as he warmly gripped her hands,
and this look wakened a slight color in Dorothy's cheeks.
"Dot!" he exclaimed impulsively. "Tell me where I can reach Reese!
I called up his office when I reached New York this morning, but
couldn't get any information except that he was not there and
wouldn't be there to-day. I came on here, sure of catching him--and
now he's gone! I must get in touch with him immediately."
Her eyes widened on his.
"Why, Pete, you'll have to go to Wilmington! He's there, at the
annual meeting of Consolidated. There's a big fight going on--"
"Yes, yes, I know--but good heavens, Dot! I have to catch an
afternoon train for Indianapolis, sure!"
Slosson stared at her, anxiety and dismayed hesitation evident in his
features. He was better looking than of old; cleaner about the eyes,
firmer of mouth. Dorothy thought that he must have been not only
prospering, but behaving himself.
He refused to sit down, but resumed his nervous pacing back and forth.
"This is terrible, Dot!" he burst out. "I've risked everything to
come here--and now Reese is gone! If I could only get ten minutes
with him--"
"Tell me, instead." Dorothy realized that something of serious
import must be in the air; his agitated manner conveyed the fact.
"Is it business? Reese and I have no secrets, Pete. If you like,
why not telephone? I think we can reach him."
"No, no, it's impossible! I daren't telephone--or tell you either--"
He stopped short and stared at her, biting his lip. In his air was
an alarmed hesitation, as though her suggestion had startled and
frightened him.
"I'll say frankly, Dot, that it's for your sake I've come here to
warn Reese. I'm risking everything in doing it--"
"For my sake?"
"Yes." He faced her squarely, on his lips a slight smile tinged with
bitterness. "Your happiness has always meant a good deal to me, Dot.
It's for your sake that I came here--I'm not ashamed to admit it.
But I can't deliver this warning to you. There are things--oh, well,
it's out of the question."
"Reese and I have no secrets from each other," repeated Dorothy
quietly.
Slosson regarded her, smiling once more. That smile was a triumph of
irony, of subtle suggestion, of tacit implication.
"My dear Dot, I simply can't tell you what's going on! I--hang it,
I'd say too much. Let me think. If there were only some way--"
He turned his back to her and stared out of the window.
Dorothy was conscious of alarm stirring within her. She had always
suspected Pete Slosson of being a poseur, a very clever actor where
women were concerned. At this moment, she forgot everything except
the implied suggestion of his words. The desperate earnestness of
his manner was convincing.
"You might leave a note," she began.
Slosson swung around on her with a quick, hard laugh.
"And implicate myself? Not much. I'm in it deep enough already. I
never dreamed until too late how that infernal Ried Williams must be
working for Macgowan--"
He broke off, shrugged, checked himself.
Mention of those names electrified Dorothy. She leaned forward. Her
brain leaped to the conclusion that here was a chance to get some
information, some warning, which must reach Reese at once. Perhaps
it had something to do with the Wilmington meeting, or could be used
there. It was her chance to help her husband.
"Sit down, Pete--sit down!" she said sharply. "You have to tell me
what's on your mind. I'm with Reese in this fight against Macgowan.
Tell me, at once."
Slosson dropped into a chair. Her incisive words seemed to shatter
his indecision. He broke out into a petulant flood of speech.
"Damn it, Dot, how can I tell you? There are things you don't know,
never did know, must not know! I don't want to tell you--yet, if I
don't reach Reese, it means jail! Can't you see the position I'm in?
If I tell you the truth, I'm bound to hurt you deeply; and I don't
want to do that. If I don't tell you, if I don't get this message to
Reese--it's jail for him."
His mental despair, his torturing uncertainty, lay written in his
face.
"Jail!" repeated Dorothy, low-voiced. Slosson made a gesture of
assent, and dropped his chin on his breast. From beneath lowered
lids, he was watching keenly, however.
Dorothy's first impulse was to bid him go, leave his message
unspoken. If Reese actually had any dark secret which had been
carefully kept from her knowledge, she did not wish to know it.
The impulse was checked. What had this to do with Macgowan, with
Ried Williams? The thought was as a goad to her spirit. She leaned
forward again to speak. As Slosson glanced up, he met her eyes full.
Her blue-steel gaze was so imperative, so penetrating, that the man
gave an involuntary start.
"Tell me the whole thing, Pete," she ordered swiftly. "I have a
right to know. Out with it!"
Slosson gestured despairingly.
"I'll have to," he muttered. "Reese is going to be indicted in
Illinois--perhaps has been indicted by now. He must act at once to
save himself."
"Indicted! For what?"
"For the way he handled Food Products--for fraud in selling the
stock."
Dorothy closed her eyes for an instant. The dreaded words had come;
the impact of them burned her. Food Products! And Slosson's bitter
voice continued.
"Williams got me to sign the affidavits before I realized what was
going on. If I'd dreamed that he was working with Macgowan, that the
affidavits were to be used--"
"Stop, wait!" exclaimed Dorothy, her eyes terrified. "Tell me
exactly what's the trouble, what he did that's wrong! I'll have to
understand it all."
Slosson lowered his lids and looked down at his hands--perhaps to
hide the swift gleam of triumph he could not keep from his eyes.
"As things stood, when your father was in charge, we were unable to
market that big stock-issue which would have saved us. Reese took
hold and showed us how to manage it. We made a list of assets that
was--well, it was padded! We filed our sworn statements with the
various state commissioners of securities, and got permission to sell
the stock. Salvation was just in sight for the company when your
wedding-day came--and you know what happened then. Reese threw us
all out and took over the company."
Dorothy watched him with burning gaze. Across her face had slowly
spread a mortal pallor.
"You don't mean that everything was prepared before-hand--even that
meeting in father's library, that telegram--and what happened then?"
This was the moment of crisis, and Slosson met it firmly. He lifted
his face, white with the lie that was on his lips. To Dorothy, it
seemed the pallor of confession. He met her intent, flaming eyes,
and nodded.
"Yes. We didn't expect it, of course. Reese and Macgowan and his
man Wren had it all framed up. They knew we couldn't raise the money
that telegram demanded--I believe they arranged to have the telegram
sent at the proper time. Wren came to Evansville, on the quiet,
about a month before your wedding, and looked up the company's
affairs thoroughly--"
"Wren did?" whispered Dorothy, her eyes wide and stricken. "Jimmy
Wren?"
Slosson nodded, caught his breath sharply.
"He was only obeying orders, of course. It was through him that
Reese handled things--showed us how to get that stock issue on the
market. We never dreamed that the company was going to be grabbed
from us. And," he added reflectively, "I'm not blaming Reese for
that. I don't think it was all his scheme. I blame Macgowan, for it
was Macgowan who learned about all the details--"
He came to his feet and resumed his restless pacing back and forth.
"You see, Dot, Reese will have to act immediately--"
"Why," suddenly struck in Dorothy, "why has Macgowan, through all
these weeks and months of bitter enmity, never raised the question of
this stock issue against Reese? Was he involved in it?"
Slosson shook his head. "I don't think he even knew of it until
recently. That was Armstrong's own private affair; the Armstrong
Company, you see, was to handle the stock and sell it. Of course, if
Macgowan ever brings up this matter it means the ruin of Reese. And
now Macgowan knows about it, and is bringing it up.
"I've learned through Williams," he went on quickly, "that Macgowan
is obtaining an indictment against Reese in Illinois, on charges of
fraud in connection with the stock sales. That will amount to
nothing, probably. This other business, however, can be raised
against him everywhere, in every state! And Macgowan knows about it.
That's why Reese must act at once, get to Macgowan without delay,
call off the whole fight and patch up a peace!"
Dorothy started slightly. For one instant she dimly suspected the
truth behind all this talk; for an instant only. It was gone at once
and forgotten.
"He won't do that," she said steadily. "He can't do that, Pete.
He's fighting now for all the men and women who believe in him, for
the investors--"
Slosson turned bitter eyes upon her.
"Have you fallen for that talk?" He laughed harshly. "Listen! I
want to help Reese--for your sake. I want to save him, if I can.
But don't give me that campaign bunk--it's nothing else. Listen to
facts! Don't you know why he's pretending to fight for the sixteen
thousand investors? Because that's his only possible shield. If
Macgowan came out and charged him with wrecking Food Products and
stealing it from your father, Reese could stand on his dignity and
deny the charge. But what can he say to the law--to indictments and
proof, and conviction? A grand jury has to be shown facts. If
Macgowan shows those affidavits that I signed with Williams--good
night!
"Don't think that Reese meant wrong," hurried on Slosson. "He really
saw only the one way to save Food Products, and took it. The rest of
us had run things into the ground, sure enough. About this stock
issue, he took the same chances that four out of five business men
take every day. Why, I can see now that when he kicked us all out,
it was for the best all around! It's been the makings of me. And
your father has realized that the company was better off without
him--he was glad to be saved from the wreck at any price."
A faint tremor passed through Dorothy's body. If every word that
Slosson was uttering had been craftily calculated to pierce her
heart, the end could not have been better attained.
Slosson concluded rapidly. "Dot, I tell you that this man Macgowan
is a terrible enemy. He is vindictive, cunning, treacherous! He's
all that's bad--and now he has Reese absolutely by the neck. Reese
will be indicted and jailed in every state where the stock was sold,
unless he acts at once and ends the fight with Macgowan."
Dorothy was watching him now with terrified eyes. Her doubts had
fled, dissipated by his tremendous earnestness.
"But he can't give in--"
"He has to. Do you know whom I met on the train coming to town? Tom
Windsor."
She was caught by the name. Dorothy knew Tom Windsor very well. He
was an Evansville boy, and every one there knew him. Now he was in
Indianapolis, assistant state's attorney general. Dorothy, in common
with every one, knew him for a man of the most unimpeachable
integrity, of the most sterling character. His name was commonly
linked with that of Federal Judge Sanderson--the two men were known
to stand for the same stern, rigid, unwavering application of the
law, Roman in its severity, recognizing neither influence nor wealth
nor position in any offender. It was Windsor who had placed the
mayor and entire council of one Indiana city in the penitentiary.
"You know Windsor," went on Slosson's voice. "You know there's
nothing loose or crooked about him. From something he said to me on
the train, I gathered that he was coming to New York to see Macgowan.
Probably he has been appointed special investigator into this Food
Products affair, and Macgowan will lay those affidavits before him.
If Tom Windsor thought his own brother guilty, he'd land him behind
the bars!"
Dorothy caught her breath. For a moment everything went black before
her; she recovered to find Slosson gripping her arm, his face
frightened, contrite.
"Oh--I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he cried out. In his voice was a touch
of real sincerity. "I should never have told you--"
"Please--go," she whispered faintly.
Slosson regarded her for a moment with a dejected and mournful air,
then he took his hat and went to the door. There, he turned.
"Forgive me, Dot! There was no other way--"
She did not respond. She did not even see him go. After a time she
found herself at the telephone, calling the Wilmington office.
Presently Jimmy's voice came to her.
"Tell me, please!" She wondered at the cool steadiness of her own
tone. All her brain was in a mad tumult. "Tell me--were you in
Evansville about a month before Reese and I were married? Were you
making arrangements then, gathering information and all, for that
Food Products reorganization?"
"Why, sure!" came the surprised answer. "I didn't know that any one
knew of it, but I was on the job all right. Why?"
"All right--good-by."
Dorothy hung up the receiver. The warning which she was supposed to
deliver had been stricken out of her mind. Trembling, she dropped
her face in her hands.
"True--it's all true!" she moaned. "Oh--Reese! And I would have
stuck to you through everything--"