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Updated: June 7, 2025
"How are you making it, Frank?" the president inquired, with solicitude. A sympathetic observer would have found a suggestion of captives, caged and hopeless, in the demeanor of the cashier and the bookkeeper behind the grille. Vaniman peered through the lattice into the gloom where the callers stood and shook his head. "I'm not making it well at all, sir."
Small wonder that you got hot, thinking I meant it that way. My plan will put you out right! My plan is a prime plan that can be worked only once. Therefore, it's worth money." "Damn it, I haven't the money!" Vaniman, exasperated by this pertinacity, was not able to control his feelings or his language. "It's too bad you are still at the point where you think you haven't got it," returned Mr.
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.
He marched to Vaniman, took that perturbed young man by the arm, and said that Xoa would be waiting supper. As Squire Hexter and Vaniman walked on together the notary deferred comment on the recent happenings, as if he hoped that the cashier would open up on the topic. But Frank was grimly silent. Therefore the Squire broke the ice. "What kind of a partner does Tasp Britt make in a polka, son?
Cashier, consider what regular and desperate cracksmen would have done to you! Considering our carefulness where you were concerned, and the trouble we have been put to in getting out and chasing you, what say?" Again Vaniman got a strong grip on his emotions.
"If anything is wrong with the accounts, you may most certainly look to me, Mr. Starr. I assume full responsibility. I have found Miss Harnden to be most accurate." "I ought to have been through with this small bank and away by night," grumbled the examiner. "But I'm going to give you a fair show, Vaniman, by waiting over.
Britt had said that he should tell the truth, and that was all any witness could be expected to do or to promise, furthermore, so he told the Squire, he had been enjoined by his counsel to make no talk to anybody. Vaniman was not sure of his self-restraint during that period of waiting. There were days when he felt like slapping the faces that glowered when he looked at them.
Many times, keeping vigil when his emotions would not allow him to sleep, Vaniman saw Wagg halt and peer through the bars of the cell. The corridor light showed his face. But Wagg did not accost the prisoner. The guard acted like a man who, whatever might be his particular interest in Vaniman, proposed to take plenty of time in getting acquainted.
"Young woman, I'm interested only in this, if you have any information to give me in regard to it." Vaniman was displaying an interest of his own that was but little short of amazement. "The information I have is this, sir! My father said that Mr.
Wagg explained to the warden, after a time, that the dynamite could be planted more safely and to better advantage when the drillers were off the job. Therefore, Vaniman was detailed to help during the noon hour while the prisoners were at dinner. But, even when they were alone together, day after day, Mr. Wagg maintained his reticence. Once in a while he did wink at Vaniman.
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