HAPTER XXIV

THE SHADE WHO STALLED

Mr. Wagg did not hurry. He used several days for his trip to Egypt.
He drove leisurely along roads which led through small towns and
out-of-the-way places. That plan afforded him opportunity and excuse for
pitching a tent to serve as shelter during the night stops. And after
the tent was pitched and the dusk descended, Vaniman was able to come
thankfully from the hateful restraint of the van and stroll along the
woodland aisles and get the kinks out of his anatomy.

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 tim