"Then," said Judge, "the same gentleman told me that he had changed his plans about the distribution of a bonus to his employees. He said that he had intended to deliver the bonus within the next few weeks. But he had now decided to wait for another month, at least, so that he might draw the money from an outside source, and thereby keep as much money in Middletown as possible." Applause began again, but subsided instantly, as Judge raised his hand for silence.
"Perhaps," said the gray-haired man, "you would be interested to know what I replied to — Mr. Bronlon. I said exactly this: 'The Middletown Trust Company is an institution that serves Middletown. It has gained the confidence of the citizens, and it will always retain that confidence. Our resources are such, Mr. Bronlon, that I would suggest you pay the bonus now. Pay it to people who live in Middletown, with money drawn from the one bank in Middletown.'"
A marked stillness hung over the room, while Judge waited for the effect of his words to be fully impressed upon the listeners.
"As a result," Judge declared, "I am pleased to say that tomorrow, the bonus money goes out with Mr. Bronlon's pay roll. It is a yearly bonus, gentlemen.
"Let me add that, should Mr. Bronlon care to draw ten times the amount of that bonus money, the Middletown Trust Company would be pleased to supply him with it!"
The diners were on their feet, shouting their approval. Judge stood, acknowledging the storm of praise. Cries came for Bronlon.
The manufacturer rose to his feet. New applause burst forth, and when Bronlon extended his hand for Judge to grasp, the wild enthusiasts leaped upon their chairs in mad approval. It was half an hour afterward when Judge finally managed to shake himself free of the last admirer. He made the plea that he was tired; that he was staying at the hotel for the night. He reached the lobby, and started toward the elevator.
On the way, he encountered one more man. Howard Best, the undertaker, shook hands with David Traver, president of the Middletown Trust Company. Deacon and Judge, they called themselves, on occasion — but not during this public exchange of greetings.
As Judge entered the elevator, he slipped his hand in his pocket — the same right hand that had just been clasped by Deacon. Before the door of the elevator closed, some one stepped into view from an obscure corner of the lobby, and entered the car also. It was Henry Arnaud.
Judge stepped off at the fourth floor. Henry Arnaud continued upward. He left the elevator and went to his room. There he opened a suitcase; then extinguished the light.