With a woman's instinct she had hit the mark.
"Perhaps it 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.