CHAPTER XXII
The three, father and two sons, remained seated at the table without speaking for a few seconds after Wall's parting shot.
Then Grove heaved a sigh.
"Well, that's finished," he said with a return of his old briskness. "I can't say that I like the idea of draining the estate to protect this concern. But it won't take me long to pull it out of the hole. It's really better to have it entirely in our own hands. I didn't believe that crowd would ever get cold feet and leave me in the lurch. Good riddance."
"No," his father answered slowly, "it is not finished. I want your formal resignation as president. I want an assignment of your entire holding in this corporation. At once. When you have done that, it will be finished, so far as you're concerned."
"Pater! For God's sake! Have you gone mad?" Grove's eyes bulged. His mouth opened roundly. "You're not going to put me out?"
"That is precisely my intention."
"But you can't. Nobody knows this thing as I do. It won't run without me. I made it, I tell you. The complexity of—"
"You made it!" his father said wearily. "What have you made of it? A hash. A shaky, unwieldy thing that will fall to pieces if I don't plaster it up with money. Listen to me, Grove."