When Randolph shut off the TV that night, he was chewing his lip violently. Must have been more than double that fifty thousand dollars, he thought. He reminded himself to phone BDD&O first thing in the morning.
It was still an hour before noon when Randolph's phone rang.
"Randolph, here," he said in the formality he'd adopted on an English visit and carefully kept.
"Good morning," Oswald's voice was formal. "Good morning." There was a silence, while Randolph waited for the other to continue.
Finally, Randolph said, "Good show, that. Must have cost a lot more than my price," he added. "It was good, though," he said again, thoughtfully.
"Randolph," Oswald's voice sounded wild, "I don't know what the thing cost. I don't know—"
"Now, sir, just what do you mean, you don't know the cost? I told you to spend fifty thousand dollars, and from what I saw last night it'll cost four times that. I'll go as high as one hundred twenty-five thousand dollars, but not one cent over. And you'd better make it worth the money, for that's a pretty penny," he said.
"Look, Randolph, the cleanup job down there was supposed to start this morning. Contracts let, big crews ready to do the job fast so people could go look at the finished product. Every family was signed up to act as guides, like in Williamsburg. We moved 'em all to the country yesterday, so they'd look healthy when they came back, and the job could start at the crack of dawn today."
"Well?"
"Well, the job's already done."