Mershon nodded.
"The next room is yours." Bonbright pointed toward his old office, the one it had been the family custom to close on the accession of the heir apparent, and never to reopen until a new heir was ready to take up his duties. He felt a sort of pleasure in this profanation. "You'll find it large enough. If you need more room, ask for it…. Get what assistants you need."
"No more interruption of production than necessary," said Mershon.
"Exactly…. And we need that new plant in a hurry. I've taken a contract to make ten thousand engines for Mr. Lightener this year."
It was that day that he called Rangar into the room. Rangar had been uneasy, fearful, since his old employer had died. He had been an important figure under the old order; a sort of shadow behind the throne. He wondered what would happen to him now. More especially if Bonbright had a notion of some of his duties under Bonbright's father. He was not kept in suspense.
"Mr. Rangar," said Bonbright, "I have been looking through the files. Some of your duties have become clear to me. I was familiar with others…. Perhaps my father required a man like yourself. I do not. The old way of doing things here is gone, and you and I could not be happy together. I shall direct the cashier to give you a check for six months' salary…"
"You mean—"
"Exactly what I say."
"But—you don't understand the business. Who is going to run it while you learn?"
"I don't want to know how this business was run. It's not going to be run that way…. There's nothing you could teach me, Mr. Hangar…. Good afternoon."