Deacon was staring out into the street. As Henry Arnaud gazed at the new undertaker, the eyes of the two met.
Each studied the other momentarily, with expressionless face. Then Henry Arnaud strolled onward, and the brief meeting ended. It was scarcely more than a passing glance, yet each of the participants retained an indelible impression of the visage that he had just seen.
Deacon's face clouded. It became more solemn than before. His eyes, staring across the street, visualized the countenance that he had seen.
Instinctively, Deacon was wondering about that passing stranger. He wondered what the impressive visitor's purpose was, here in Middletown.
The faint trace of a smile appeared upon the thin, straight lips of Henry Arnaud as the tall figure stopped before another window. He was picturing the face of Deacon.
The chance encounter was of vital moment to each man. Not a word had been spoken; not a sign given. Still, two keen intellects had been at work.
Deacon looked the part of an undertaker to perfection. Nevertheless, Arnaud had suspected some other reason for his presence here. Arnaud, in turn, had all the appearance of a chance passer-by; yet Deacon had seen a double purpose in his approach.
Returning to the Darthmore Hotel, Henry Arnaud purchased copies of the evening newspapers. He retired to his room and looked from the window, surveying the main street of Middletown. His gaze wandered over the city, and he seemed to be locating certain spots for future interest. Seating himself, Arnaud began a study of the newspapers. They told of the latest developments in the financial crash of the County National Bank.
Henry Arnaud finished his reading, produced a small pair of scissors, and carefully cut out the latest clippings. He added them to a pile of other items that he took from an envelope in his pocket. The entire collection formed a complete history of recent events in Middletown.
Arnaud quietly reread the account of the murder in the bank.