would," I admitted.

"I noticed one or two things," she continued earnestly. "Near the
office is an empty lot with trees and bushes. I'd as lief rest there
as here ef it's the same to you. Then you kin look around for Jaspar,
if ye've a mind to."

"And if I find him?"

"Watch him, as I shall watch the other feller."

"And then----"

"The rest is in the dear Lord's hands."

She adjusted the thick veil which Southern Californian women wear to
keep the thick dust from their faces, and together we returned to
Leveson's office. Passing the door, I could hear the typewriters still
clicking. Mrs. Panel sat down under a tree in the empty lot, and for
the first time since we had met that day spoke in her natural tones.

"I come away without feeding the chickens," she said.

I looked at my watch; it was nearly six. One hour of daylight
remained. Leveson, I happened to know, was in the habit of dining
about half-past six. He often returned to the office after dinner.
Between the Hotel Paloma, which lay just outside the town and the
office ran a regular service of street cars. Leveson was the last man
in the world to walk when he could drive. It seemed reasonably certain
that Jaspar, failing to see Leveson at the office, would try to speak
to him at the hotel. From my knowledge of the man's temperament and
character, I was certain that he would not shoot down his enemy
without warning. So I walked up to the hotel feeling easier in my
mind. The clerk, whom I knew well, assigned me a room. I saw several
men in the hall, but not Uncle Jap.

"Does Mr. Leveson dine about half-past six?" I asked.

The clerk raised his brows.

"That's queer," he said. "You're the second man to ask that question
within an hour. Old man Panel asked the same thing."

"And what did you tell him?"

"Mr. Leveson don't dine till seven. He goes to the church first."

If the man had said that Leveson went to Heaven I could not have been
more surprised. Then I remembered what I had read in the local papers.
I had not seen the church yet. I had not wished to see it, knowing
that every stone in it was paid for with the sweat--as Uncle Jap had
put it--of other men's souls.

"Where is this church?"

"You don't know? Third turning to the left after passing the Olive
Branch Saloon."

"Leveson owns that too, doesn't he?"

The clerk yawned. "I dare say. He owns most of the earth around here,
and most of the people on it."

I walked quickly back to