“Why—why yes, sir—nearly the same,” said Jimmy, surprised.
Mr. Hope’s secretary announced that he had not come in that morning. The president frowned, tapping his desk with a lead pencil thoughtfully. Mr. Cooper, scenting something wrong, spoke up quickly.
“Pardon me, chief. There’s something peculiar about this that you don’t exactly understand. We’d rather not speak of it now; Mr. Rand just wanted you to consider his plan in relation to our new factory. This other matter—about Mr. Hope—we know a good deal about that, too, but we’d rather let it go till some other time.”
“Strange, very strange,” said the president musingly.
“Mr. Hope did tell you what I wanted that day, didn’t he?” Jimmy ventured.
“He told me about your mother’s potential gas-well in—Alberta, I think it was.”
Jimmy gasped. “Why—what—why, I never—”
Again Mr. Cooper interposed.
“Chief, listen,” he began vigorously. “Here are the facts: Mr. Rand came into the company that morning to tell you what he has just told you. At your direction he told it to Mr. Hope.”
“How do you know what he told Mr. Hope?” the president snapped.