Frank was dead?
At once, the three people in the sofa area wore different expressions.
Simon was simply surprised. After all, they had only just mentioned that compulsive gambler.
Arthur and Maltz had somewhat more complicated reactions.
Arthur rubbed his brow. He absolutely refused to admit that he had been "favored by the Grim Reaper"-how could people die wherever he went?
That was ridiculous. It was all just coincidence.
It was like finding a loose thread on a sweater, giving it a hard tug, and having the whole sweater unravel into a ball of yarn.
What were the odds of that?
Very, very low!
Practically zero!
And what about his "Medium's" intuition just now?
You couldn't trust a "Medium's" words, much less a "Medium's" intuition.
That was even less trustworthy!
It was all the "Medium's" fault, not his.
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and sat up straight. Beside him, the old Chief sighed softly, marveling at the wonders of fate.
Sure enough, his partner really had been "favored by the Grim Reaper."
Strangers who encountered his partner would most likely have to undergo a "test of death."
Pass the test, and they lived.
Fail, and they died.
At that thought, the old Chief glanced at the silent Tate.
The cane shop's owner was clearly suffering the double torment of a headache and an exposed secret-the former caused physical pain, while the latter left him anxious and uneasy.
"Tate, I think you should be a little more careful lately."
The old Chief felt obliged to remind this fairly decent shopkeeper. Everyone had secrets, after all, and this particular secret had hurt no one. Besides, as far as he knew, plenty of shops offered similar services to attract wealthy ladies and ease their loneliness.
Otherwise, wouldn't those ladies' canes in the