“Very well. Here’s the situation. Banneker points his gun, The Patriot, at Bussey. ‘Be good or I’ll shoot,’ he says. Marrineal learns of it, never mind how. He points his gun at Ban. ‘Be good, or I’ll shoot,’ says he. And there you are!”
“But what was his gun? And why need he threaten Ban?”
“Why, you see, Mrs. Eyre, about that time things were coming to an issue between Ban and Marrineal. Ban was having a hard fight for the independence of his editorial page. His strongest hold on Marrineal was Marrineal’s fear of losing him. There were plenty of opportunities open to a Banneker. Well, when Marrineal got Ban where he couldn’t resign, Ban’s hold was gone. That was Marrineal’s gun.”
“Why couldn’t he resign?” asked Io, white-lipped.
“If he quit The Patriot he could no longer hold Bussey, and The Searchlight could print what it chose. You see?”
“I see,” said Io, very low. “Oh, why couldn’t I have seen before!”
“How could you, if Ban told you nothing?” reasoned Edmonds. “The blame of the miserable business isn’t yours. Sometimes I wonder if it’s anybody’s; if the newspaper game isn’t just too strong for us who try to play it. As for The Searchlight, I’ve since got another hold on Bussey which will keep him from making any trouble. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
“Oh, what does it matter! What does it matter!” she moaned. She crossed to the window, laid her hot and white face against the cool glass, pressed her hands in upon her temples, striving to think connectedly. “Then whatever he did on The Patriot, whatever compromises he yielded to or—or cowardices—” she winced at the words—“were done to save his place; to save me.”
“I’m afraid so,” returned the other gently.
“Do you know what he’s doing now?” she demanded.