by Various
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. 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. Terror had spread a grim mask upon the other; his complexion was the colour of oatmeal, his pendulous lips were quivering, his huge body seemed of a sudden to be deflated. He might have been an empty gas bag, not a man.
"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!"
"Say ten thousand, more or less."
"Put down fifteen; I'd jest as lief it was more 'n less. Put down a hundred dollars fer me, I mean to hev a good suit o' clothes myself. What does that come to?"
"Twenty-five thousand, one hundred dollars. Aren't you wasting time, Mr. Panel?"
"Nit. Of course if we happened to be interrupted it might be awkward fer you. If somebody should call, you'll say, of course, that yer very particularly engaged, eh?"
"Yes," said Nathaniel Leveson. "To oblige me, Mr. Panel, take your finger from that trigger."
"Ah? I'd ought ter hev done that before. I'd disremembered 'twas a hair trigger. Now then, put down Sunny Bushes, includin' the oil lake, at yer own figger, fifty thousand. Got it? Yas. Now then, for wear an' tear of two precious souls an' bodies--that's it! Fifty thousand more. Got it? Yas. How much now?"
"One hundred and twenty-five thousand, one hundred dollars."
"Right! What does a marble hall cost?"
"A marble----"
"You heard what I said plain enough. You live in one yerself. What did that leetle shebang on Nob Hill cost ye?"
"Four hundred thousand dollars."
"Jiminy Christmas! Marble halls come high, but you've a large fam'ly, more's the pity. Put down seventy-five thousand. Got it? Yas. Now then, about statooary--"
"Good God!"
"Don't call on the Lord so loud. I reckon he's nearer than you give Him credit fer. Statooary comes high, too, but one don't want overly much of it. A leetle gives a tone to a parlour. Put down five thousand. Got it! Yas. Furniture an' fixins, lemmee see! Wal, when it comes to buyin' fixin's, Mis' Panel beats the world. Put down ten thousand more. Total, please!"
"Two hundred and fifteen thousand and one hundred dollars."
"Make out yer personal note to me an' Mis' Panel fer that amount. One day after date. An' consideration. Sunny Bushes, oil, mortgage an' all, but not the stock, I wouldn't sell any living critter to sech as you. There's pen an' ink all handy."
We heard the scratching of pen on paper.
"Ye look mighty pleased," said Uncle Jap, "an' it's not because yer gittin' a property wuth a million for a quarter its value, nor because late in the day ye've squared an ugly account, but because yer thinkin' that this yere note ain't wuth the paper it's written on. An' it ain't-yit."
Again Mrs. Panel nudged me. Her beatific expression told me more eloquently than words that her Jasper was the greatest man on earth.
"Notes-of-hand given by onreliable parties must be secured," said Uncle Jap slowly. "This yere is goin' to be secured by a confession, dictated by me, written out an' signed by you. When the note is paid, I hand over the confession--see! If the
note ain't paid prompt, the confession goes to the noospapers of this enlightened land. I shall git something from them for sech a remarkable doccyment. But, first of all, here an' now, you can make a small payment on the note. Give me that di'mond ring, an' the di'mond pin. Quick!"
A moment later these corruscating gems were swept into Uncle Jap's hand.
"What did they cost ye?"
"Twenty-seven hundred dollars."
"Suffering Moses! Endorse that as paid on the back of the note. Got it down? Yas." Uncle Jap folded up the note and placed it carefully in a large pocket-book. "Now write out, good an' plain, what I tell ye. Ready? Date an' address first. That's right. Now----"
Obviously, he was pulling himself together for a tremendous literary effort. Mrs. Panel had hold of my arm, and was squeezing it hard. Uncle Jap began--
"'_This is to certify that I, Nathaniel Leveson, the undersigned, have been fooling with the wrong end of a mule, viz., Jasper Panel, who's as self-opinionated a critter as ever marched with Sherman to the Sea_----' What air you doing?"
Leveson had laid down his pen. "This is farce," he said sharply.
"We'll hev your criticism after the play is over," retorted Uncle Jap decisively. "I'm talkin' now. Pick up that thar pen, and don't lay it down agen till I tell ye, or," the muzzle of the Colt almost touched the perspiring forehead of the Colossus, "or else, by Golly, thar'll be a terr'ble muss to clean up in here to-morrer mornin'. That's better. Lemmee see, whar was I? 'Sherman to the Sea,' yas. Now: '_I tried to down Jasper Panel, and he's downed me. I'm a nateral born hog, and I eat with all four feet in the trough.'_ Underline that, it's good. _'I'm big, an sassy, an' full o' meanness, but what sand I've got ain't to be seen with a double-barrelled microscope. I'm as false as Judas; an' Ananias wouldn't be seen walkin' arm in arm with me in the place whar I'd oughter be to-night. I'd steal milk from a blind kitten an' sell it as cream to my own mother five minutes after.'_ Underline that: it's straight goods. Now then fer the finish. _'I wouldn't offer a fair price fer Sunny Bushes, because I aimed ter git it fer nothing. I wouldn't allow others to buy it fer the same reason. I used the power that the Devil give me to prevent a railroad, which I own, furnishin' cars to J. Panel, an' las'ly, I caused money ter be loaned to said J. Panel so's to git him completely under my heel. Also I built a church in San Lorenzy, an' I write these yere lines in the vestry of it as a sorter penance. I swear solemn that this is the first time in my life that I ever tole the truth, an' I'll never do it agen, if I know myself._'
"Sign that, an' give it ter me," said Uncle Jap.
Leveson, purple with rage and humiliation, signed it.
* * * * *
At this psychological moment we made our presence known.
"Uncle Jap," said I, "don't you think that document ought to be witnessed."
"Jee-whillikins! Ef it ain't you. Who's that a-peekin' behind ye?"
"It's me, Jaspar," said Mrs. Panel meekly.
Uncle Jap unlocked the door of the vestry and let us in. Leveson sat huddled up in his chair. Uncle Jap prodded him with the ancient pistol which he still held in his hands.
"Can't you offer a lady a chair?" he said testily. Leveson offered his chair, upon the extreme edge of which Mrs. Panel deprecatingly seated herself. Uncle Jap eyed her with wrinkled interrogation.
"What in thunder brought ye to San Lorenzy?"
Mrs. Panel twisted her fingers.
"I looked in the drawer, an' I see that," she indicated the weapon, "was missin'."
"Did ye? Now, Lily Panel, you don't mean to tell me that you thought I was goin' ter murder this feller?"
Mrs. Panel looked at Leveson with an expression which I have seen in the eyes of foothill mothers, whose children run barefoot, when they have found a rattlesnake. Then she drawled out: "Wal, I hoped you might, but----"
"Why, Lily! You hoped I might?"
"Yes; but I feared you'd git murdered first. Oh Jaspar, I didn't know you was sech a man."
She stood up, her eyes were shining, her face radiant "Fergive me, but I reckoned you--was--petered--out?"
"Petered out--me?"
"Yas; I'm a silly, fullish woman."
"No, you ain't. Petered out--me? Wal," he glanced at Leveson, "somebody is petered out, but it ain't me. Did ye ever see a man scairt worse'n him? I scairt the wizard some; yas I did, but he could run: this feller can't crawl, I reckon. An' this yere Colt wan't loaded then, an' it ain't loaded--now. Look! What an appetite I hev! Who says supper? Now, mister," he addressed Leveson, "seein' as the starch is outer you, I'll give ye my arm as fur as the Paloma."
"Leave me," gurgled Leveson.
"I'm too good a Christian. In the state yer in it'd kill ye to meet somebody else ye've robbed. It's too risky."
"Go, you scoundrel! Authority was returning to his voice; the old arrogance gleamed in his eyes.
"Scoundrel--hay?" Uncle Jap's voice became savage. "You come along with me--quick an' quiet. This old Colt ain't loaded, but ef I hit you over the head with the butt of it, ye'll think it is. Come!"
In silence the four of us marched up to the Paloma, and into the big hall where a dozen men were smoking. Uncle Jap addressed the clerk in a loud, clear voice.
"Mr. Leveson," he said, "has just concluded a leetle deal with me. He's bought Sunny Bushes an' the lake of ile for two hundred and fifteen thousand and one hundred dollars. Here is his note. Put it in the safe for me till to-morrer."
The chatter in the big room had ceased long before Uncle Jap had finished. More than one man present divined that something quite out of the ordinary had taken place. Leveson moistened his lips with his tongue. His chance had come. Had he chosen to repudiate the note, had he denounced Uncle Jap as obtaining at the pistol point what could be obtained in no other way, the law of the land would have released him from his bond. But Uncle Jap had read him aright: he was a coward.
"Yes," he said. "I've bought Sunny Bushes."
"An' dirt cheap, too," said Uncle Jap. He spoke to the clerk in his usual mild voice: "Can you give Mis' Panel an' me accommodation?"
"Certainly, Mr. Panel. What sort of accommodation, sir?"
Uncle Jap looked fondly at his wife. I doubt if she had ever crossed the threshold of the Paloma before. I could see her blinking at the marble columns, at the velvet pile rugs, and the innumerable electric lights just turned on.
"What sorter accommodation?" repeated Uncle Jap. "Why, anything'd do fer me, but Mis' Panel is mighty particular. We'll take the bridal suit, if it ain't engaged."
"Certainly; sitting-room, bedroom, and bathroom upon the first floor," said the clerk, striking a bell for the hall porter.
"Come, Lily," said Uncle Jap.
She raised her head, as if she were about to protest; then she smiled contentedly, and followed him out of the old life into the new.
Contents
WILKINS AND HIS DINAH
By Horace Annesley Vachell
Wilkins had a pair of eyes that had seen better days. His features were still good, and the complexion showed quality of texture: a bloom often seen upon the faces of middle-aged men who in youth have been fair. His figure was imposing. When he lounged into a room, even a bar-room, he took the stage, so to speak; you were bound to look at him. When he spoke you listened to words, wise or otherwise. When he smiled you were seized with an absurd desire to shake his hand!
He was herding sheep for Silas Upham, a man of flocks and herds, and the father of one child, Hetty. Meeting Wilkins for the first time, I wondered what Hetty thought of her sire's shepherd.
Wilkins told us that our back fence was down, and that a bunch of steers had broken through into Upham's alfalfa. We thanked him, offering whisky and tobacco. He accepted both with captivating smile and easy nod. A minute later he was sitting in our most comfortable chair, staring at our books and engravings. His eyes lingered upon the best of these with a look of recognition. He asked no questions.
Next day we rode over to his hut, and smoked some pipes. Wilk
ins spoke of India, Australia, France, and Italy, but he never mentioned England. Nor did we. Presently, somewhat to our surprise, Hetty Upham cantered into camp. The day happened to be unusually hot, which accounted, perhaps, for her rosy cheeks. She delivered a message to Wilkins, exchanged a few words with us, and galloped off.
"Goes faster than she came," said Ajax.
"Yes," said Wilkins. Then he added, with emphasis: "I don't blame any girl from galloping away from such a hole as this." With a derisive glance he indicated the flies swarming about his pots and pans, the ill-trimmed lamp reeking of petroleum, the rough bunk wherein he slept, the rusty stove. We contrasted these sordid surroundings with the splendours of Silas Upham's front parlour, and then we stared furtively at Wilkins.
About a week later Wilkins supped with us. Warmed by good food and drink, his reserve concerning himself somewhat melted. We learned that he had been but two weeks in Upham's service, that he had worked his passage down the coast from Vancouver to San Francisco.
"And how do you like the Uphams?" said Ajax.
The use of the plural provoked a slight smile.
"Naturally, I don't see much of them," said Wilkins.
He picked up an old photograph album, and began to turn over its pages. Obviously, his thoughts were elsewhere; and the sound of his own voice must have startled him.
"By Jove--it's old Sam!"
He spoke in a whisper, as if to himself.
"Yes--it's old Sam," said Ajax quickly. "You were at Harrow?"
Wilkins' eyelids fluttered; then he met our glance with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Yes."
He stared at the portrait of Sam, the Custos of the School, the familiar of the Yard, of the Fourth Room Form, Sam, the provider of birches, Sam of the port wine nose.
"We were at Harrow," said Ajax. "What house was yours?"
Wilkins hesitated; then he said slowly: "Tommy's."
"We were at Billy's."
Wilkins abruptly changed the subject, and soon after he left us. We rushed to the Harrow register. Yes, in Tommy's house, some seven years before our time, there had been a certain Theodore Vane Wilkins. Ajax, whose imagination runs riot, began to prattle about a Dinah, a Delilah of a Dinah, who had wrecked our schoolfellow's life. And, during the ensuing week, Dinah was continually in his mouth. Wilkins had moved camp, and we saw nothing of him. What we heard, however, must be set down. Silas Upham asked us to spend Sunday at his house. At dinner I sat next pretty little Hetty, and at once she spoke of Wilkins. To my annoyance, Ajax introduced the ridiculous Dinah, the perfidious creature of his fancy. Ajax was in his salad days, but he ought to have known, even then, that if you want to interest a maid in a man, tell her that the man has suffered at the hands of another maid. Hetty's blue eyes sparkled, her dimpled cheeks glowed with sympathy and indignation.
