"Best is the undertaker," he said. "Very enterprising chap. He bought a new stock of caskets, and put the old ones up for sale at cost. I bought a supply of them. We have a little funeral parlor of our own, over at the settlement where the factory workers live. I intend to turn the caskets over to the man in charge. Just one of the many provisions that I constantly make. Funerals are regrettable, but we have them, just the same."
Deacon, solemn-faced, appeared at the door and quietly bowed to Harvey Bronlon, with an obsequious air.
"Come in, Mr. Best," said Bronlon. Without rising, he introduced Deacon to the guests.
The undertaker shook hands. When he came to Judge, he was most courteous in his greeting.
"Ah, Mr. Traver," he said. "I shook hands with you at the banquet, the other night. I'm pleased to meet you again, sir. Pleased indeed. You have done much for Middletown." Judge made a sign as he smiled indulgently. Deacon caught it. He knew that it meant for him to remain waiting outside.
When Deacon had gone, there was a short silence. Then Judge remembered that he had neglected to make a telephone call. He excused himself and departed.
"Did you notice that fellow Best?" questioned the mayor. "The look on his face, when he shook hands with Mr. Traver? You wouldn't expect an undertaker to have a lot of sentiment. But he's caught the spirit of admiration for David Traver, like the rest of us. A wonderful man, gentlemen, a wonderful man! A great boon to Middletown!"
Outside, on the porch, Deacon was waiting. The truck had pulled away. The hearse was at the foot of the drive. Judge stepped into the darkness and pressed Deacon's arm.
"Did you see Major or Ferret?" he questioned in a low voice. "Before you came away?"
"No," replied Deacon softly. "I left Butcher there."