“I’m goin’ to tell ye that,” continued Uncle Jap mildly, “I come here to hev a leetle talk with you.  Sinse I’ve bin in San Lorenzy County two men hev tried to ruin me:  one left the county in a hurry; you’re the other.”

“I give you my word of honour, Mr. Panel——­”

“That’s about all you would give, an’ it ain’t wuth takin’.”

“Do you mean to kill me?”

“Ef I hev to, ’t won’t keep me awake nights.”

In my ear I heard his Lily’s attenuated whisper:  “Nor me neither, if Jaspar ain’t caught.”

And I had thought that solicitude for Jaspar’s soul had sent his Lily, hot-foot to prevent the crime of—­murder!  I learnt something about women then which I shall not forget.

“You propose to blackmail me, I suppose?”

“Ugly word, that, but it’s yours, not mine.  I prefer to put it this way.  I propose to consecrate this yere church with an act o’ justice.”

“Go on!”

“This county wan’t big enough for the other feller an’ me, so he had to go; it ain’t big enough to-day for you an’ me, but this time, I’m a-goin’, whether you stay in it or under it.”

At the word “under” Uncle Jap’s Lily nudged me.  I looked at her.  Her face was radiant.  Her delight in her husband at such a moment, her conviction that he was master of the situation, that he had regained by this audacious move all the prestige which he had in her estimation, lost—­these things rejuvenated her.

“It’s a question of dollars, of course?”

“That’s it.  Before you ask for credit with the angel Gabriel, you’ve got to squar’ up with Jaspar Panel.”

“With the dear Lord’s help, Jaspar has found a way,” whispered the joyful voice in my ear.

“How much?” demanded Leveson.  His colour was coming back.

“We’ve got to figger on that.  Take a pencil an’ paper an’ sit down.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Sit down, you——­”

Nathaniel Leveson sat down.  The vestry had been used by the contractor as an office; the plain deal table was littered with scraps of paper.  Leveson took out a gold pencil-case.

“Married man, ain’t ye?” said Uncle Jap, with seeming irrelevance.

“Yes.”

“Ever give your wife a ti-airy:  diamond crown, sorter?”

“What the——­”

“Answer—­quick!”

“Yes.”

“What did ye pay for it? Quick!”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

“Put that down first.”

The joy and gladness had entirely melted out of Mrs. Panel’s thin voice as she whispered dole-fully to me:  “Jaspar is crazy, after all.”

“No, he isn’t,” I whispered back.

Jaspar continued in a mild voice:  “What does a way-up outfit o’ lady’s clothes cost:  sealskin sacques, satins, the best of everything outside and in?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve got to figger it out—­quick!”