Nearly half-an-hour had passed since I left Mrs. Panel.
When I reached the third turning to the left I saw the church,
certainly the handsomest in San Lorenzo. It stood in a large lot,
littered with builders' materials. The workmen had left it at six. The
building had an indescribably lifeless aspect. An hour before men had
been busy within and without it, now not a soul was to be seen. I had
time to walk round it, to note that the doors were locked, to note
also, quite idly, that the window of the vestry was open. I could see
no signs of Uncle Jap.
Coming round to the front, I saw in the distance a portly figure
approaching, followed by a thin, dust-coloured wraith of a woman. I
slipped behind a tree and waited. Leveson strolled up, bland and
imposing. He stood still for a moment, staring intently at the outside
of his church now completed. Then, taking a key from his pocket, he
opened the vestry door and entered the building, closing the door
behind him. I went to meet Mrs. Panel.
"Seen Jaspar?"
"I haven't."
"What's that feller," she always spoke of Leveson as a 'feller,'
"doin' in a church?"
"It's his church.
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