He built it."
"Good Land o' Peter! What's he doin' in it anyway?"
"Not praying, I think."
"Shush-h-h-h."
Mrs. Panel touched my arm, thrusting out her lean face in an attitude
of intense attention. I strained my own ears, fairly good ones, but
heard nothing.
"Jaspar's in there," said his wife. "I hear his voice."
She trembled with excitement. Obviously, Jaspar had concealed himself
somewhere in the vestry. No time was to be lost.
Turning the north-east corner of the building, where the vestry is
situated, I crawled under the window, followed by Mrs. Panel. The two
men were within a few feet of us. Uncle Jap's slightly high-pitched
tones fell sharply upon the silence.
"This is a leetle surprise party, ain't it?" he was saying.
Leveson answered thickly: "What are you doing here, sir?"
Although I risked discovery at an inopportune moment, I could not
resist the temptation to raise my eyes level with the sill of the
window. So did Uncle Jap's Lily. We both peered in. Uncle Jap was
facing Leveson; in his hand he held the long-barrelled six-shooter; in
his eyes were tiny pin-point flashes of light such as you see in an
opal on a frosty morning.
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