Down crashed the stick of wood into the box.
"What about?"
Mr. Barnes tackled a nail that stuck out of the woodwork and tried to pull it between his thumb and finger while I watched the process with growing interest.
"It would be like him to put the screws on you now," he grunted, pulling at the nail. "You've got between him an' his prey. You've taken the mouse away from the cat."
I remember the little panic that fell on us then. I could see tears in the eyes of Aunt Deel as she sat with her head leaning wearily on her hand.
"If he does I'll do all I can," said Barnes, "whatever I've got will be yours."
The nail came out of the wall.
"I had enough saved to pay off the mortgage," my uncle answered. "I suppose it'll have to go for the note."
Mr. Barnes' head was up among the dried apples on the ceiling. A movement of his hand broke a string of them. Then he dropped his huge bulk into a chair which crashed to the floor beneath him. He rose blushing and said:
"I guess I better go or I'll break everything you've got here. I kind o' feel that way."