His lips moved, muttering audibly fragments of the letter, as he stared at it.
"-- incredible that you--a heinous thing--act instantly--this is ruin--" For an instant--a rare occurrence in Jimmie Dale's life--he stood like a man stricken, still staring at the sheet in his hand.

Then mechanically his fingers tore the paper into little pieces, and the little pieces into tiny shreds.

Anger fled, and a sickening sense of impotent dismay took its place; the red left his cheeks, and in its stead a grayness came.
"Act instantly!" The words seemed to leap at him, drum at his ears with constant repetition.

Act instantly! But how?
How?
Then his brain--that keen, clear, master brain--sprang from stunned inaction into virility again.

Of course--Carruthers! It was in Carruthers' line.
He stepped to the desk--and paused with his hand extended to pick up the telephone.