Oh, Money! Money! | Page 4

they never saw me. I'm going to give them a tidy little sum of money apiece, and then have the fun of watching them spend it. Any harm in that, especially as it's no one's business what I do with my money?"
"N--no, I suppose not--if you can carry such a wild scheme through."
"I can, I think. I'm going to be John Smith."
"Nice distinctive name!"
"I chose a colorless one on purpose. I'm going to be a colorless person, you see."
"Oh! And--er--do you think Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, multi-millionaire, with his pictured face in half the papers and magazines from the Atlantic to the Pacific, CAN hide that face behind a colorless John Smith?"
"Maybe not. But he can hide it behind a nice little close-cropped beard." The millionaire stroked his smooth chin reflectively.
"Humph! How large is Hillerton?"
"Eight or ten thousand. Nice little New England town, I'm told."
"Hm-m. And your--er--business in Hillerton, that will enable you to be the observing fly on your cousins' walls?"
"Yes, I've thought that all out, too; and that's another brilliant stroke. I'm going to be a genealogist. I'm going to be at work tracing the Blaisdell family--their name is Blaisdell. I'm writing a book which necessitates the collection of an endless amount of data. Now how about that fly's chances of observation. Eh?"
"Mighty poor, if he's swatted--and that's what he will be! New England housewives are death on flies, I understand."
"Well, I'll risk this one."
"You poor fellow!" There were exasperation and amusement in the lawyer's eyes, but there was only mock sympathy in his voice. "And to think I've known you all these years, and never, suspected it, Fulton!"
The man who owned twenty millions still smiled imperturbably.
"Oh, yes, I know what you mean, but I'm not crazy. And really I'm interested in genealogy, too, and I've been thinking for some time I'd go digging about the roots of my ancestral tree. I have dug a little, in years gone. My mother was a Blaisdell, you know. Her grandfather was brother to some ancestor of these Hillerton Blaisdells; and I really am interested in collecting Blaisdell data. So that's all straight. I shall be telling no fibs. And think of the opportunity it gives me! Besides, I shall try to board with one of them. I've decided that."
"Upon my word, a pretty little scheme!"
"Yes, I knew you'd appreciate it, the more you thought about it." Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's blue eyes twinkled a little.
With a disdainful gesture the lawyer brushed this aside.
"Do you mind telling me how you happened to think of it, yourself?"
"Not a bit. 'Twas a little booklet got out by a Trust Company."
"It sounds like it!"
"Oh, they didn't suggest exactly this, I'll admit; but they did suggest that, if you were fearful as to the way your heirs would handle their inheritance, you could create a trust fund for their benefit while you were living, and then watch the way the beneficiaries spent the income, as well as the way the trust fund itself was managed. In this way you could observe the effects of your gifts, and at the same time be able to change them if you didn't like results. That gave me an idea. I've just developed it. That's all. I'm going to make my cousins a little rich, and see which, if any of them, can stand being very rich."
"But the money, man! How are you going to drop a hundred thousand dollars into three men's laps, and expect to get away without an investigation as to the why and wherefore of such a singular proceeding?"
"That's where your part comes in," smiled the millionaire blandly. "Besides, to be accurate, one of the laps is--er--a petticoat one."
"Oh, indeed! So much the worse, maybe. But--And so this is where I come in, is it? Well, and suppose I refuse to come in?"
"Regretfully I shall have to employ another attorney."
"Humph! Well?"
"But you won't refuse." The blue eyes opposite were still twinkling. "In the first place, you're my good friend--my best friend. You wouldn't be seen letting me start off on a wild-goose chase like this without your guiding hand at the helm to see that I didn't come a cropper."
"Aren't you getting your metaphors a trifle mixed?" This time the lawyer's eyes were twinkling.
"Eh? What? Well, maybe. But I reckon you get my meaning. Besides, what I want you to do is a mere routine of regular business, with you."
"It sounds like it. Routine, indeed!"
"But it is--your part. Listen. I'm off for South America, say, on an exploring tour. In your charge I leave certain papers with instructions that on the first day of the sixth month of my absence (I being unheard from), you are to open a certain envelope and act according to instructions within. Simplest thing in the world, man. Now isn't