But, although he eased his body, he was unable to ease his mind.  He had not expected to enjoy his questionable freedom, anyway.  Liberty was of value to him only as he might be able to use it in his fight for his rights as an innocent man.  He could not freely use his liberty until he had cleared his name and thereby justified his escape from the prison.  Now he was wondering whether he would have allowed Wagg to proceed as he did had the guard apprised him of the full details of the plan.  The sweat of anguish stood out on him as he pondered in the jolting van; he found no pleasure in the respite of the peaceful woods.

By the plot of Wagg he had dealt his loved ones the cruel blow that sudden death inflicts on the affections.  In spite of what he hoped to gain from his freedom, Vaniman was accusing himself, realizing what his mother, his sister, and Vona were suffering.  It was his nature to draw fine distinctions in points of honor; he was ashamed in the presence of Wagg; and in the consideration of the interests of self, he felt that his liberty was exacting too great a price from others.  To all intents and purposes, outside the knowledge of one man to the contrary, he was dead, and he had deprived his best beloved of hope and peace of mind.  The one man in the secret profanely declared that if Vaniman made an attempt to communicate with any person in the world until their particular business had been settled, the whole project was in danger.  “I don’t care how much dependence you put in your mother’s good sense.  She’s a woman, and women slop over when they’re all wowed up!  She’d have to tell your sister, wouldn’t she?  She couldn’t let your sister go on suffering.  And your sister’s too young to be trusted.  Vaniman, the toughest part is over for ’em.  That’s a cinch!  They’ll go on sorrowing, of course, but they’ll be feeling more reconciled every day.  Mourners always do.  Mourners can’t help seeing the bright side, after a time.  Think of that and quit your foolishness.  You have made a trade with me.  Till your part of that trade is carried out you ain’t a free agent to do what you want to do in your own affairs.”

The worry over his inability to carry out that trade was mingled with the young man’s general bitterness of regret because he had challenged Fate so boldly.

“There’s one thing about it,” Mr. Wagg pursued, “the quicker you come across with me the sooner you can do what you darnation want to on your own hook.  I have worked a thing that could be worked only once.  You’re out—­and you’re out right.  Nobody is chasing you.  Take another name, show up in some other part of the country, and you’ll live happy ever after.”

He dwelt on that theme whenever the two talked, and he played all the variations.  Furthermore, he complained because Vaniman was not showing his gratitude in more hearty fashion.  “I catch you looking at me like a youngster would look at a bumblebee crawling across his bare foot.  I don’t ask to be taken into your bosom as your main and particular chum—­understand that!  But while there’s business on between us I expect pleasant looks, even if you don’t feel like handing me conversation.”