“There must have been more to it than that.”
“Well,” she bit her lip and made a row of forefinger prints down the polished edge of the dead man’s desk, “his father wasn’t—wasn’t in sympathy with what he was doing. Since his father really owned the papers, I suppose it was natural for Mr. Donald to think some of the employees might be more loyal to Mr. Elihu than to him.”
“The old man wasn’t in favor of the reform campaign? Why did he stand for it, if the papers were his?”
She bent her head to study the finger prints she had made. Her voice was low.
“It’s not easy to understand unless you know—The last time Mr. Elihu was taken sick he sent for Donald— Mr. Donald. Mr. Donald had lived in Europe most of his life, you know. Dr. Pride told Mr. Elihu that he’d have to give up the management of his affairs, so he cabled his son to come home. But when Mr. Donald got here Mr. Elihu couldn’t make up his mind to let go of everything. But he wanted Mr. Donald to stay here, so he