Part 49 (1/2)

”Yes. And would that help matters any--make things any happier, all around?”

”No--oh, no,” she frowned despairingly.

”Would it do anybody any REAL good, now? Think of that.”

”N-no,” she admitted reluctantly, ”except that--that you'd be doing right.”

”But WOULD I be doing right? And another thing--aside from the mortification, dismay, and anger of my good cousins, have you thought what I'd be bringing on you?”

”ME!”

”Yes. In less than half a dozen hours after the Blaisdells knew that Mr. John Smith was Stanley G. Fulton, Hillerton would know it. And in less than half a dozen more hours, Boston, New York, Chicago,--to say nothing of a dozen lesser cities,--would know it--if there didn't happen to be anything bigger on foot. Headlines an inch high would proclaim the discovery of the missing Stanley G. Fulton, and the fine print below would tell everything that happened, and a great deal that didn't happen, in the carrying-out of the eccentric multi-millionaire's extraordinary scheme of testing his relatives with a hundred thousand dollars apiece to find a suitable heir. Your picture would adorn the front page of the yellowest of yellow journals, and--”

”MY picture! Oh, no, no!” gasped Miss Maggie.

”Oh, yes, yes,” smiled the man imperturbably. ”You'll be in it, too.

Aren't you the affianced bride of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? I can see them now: 'In Search of an Heir and Finds a Wife.'--'Charming Miss Maggie Duff Falls in Love with Plain John Smith,' and--”

”Oh, no, no,” moaned Miss Maggie, shrinking back as if already the lurid headlines were staring her in the face.

Mr. Smith laughed.

”Oh, well, it might not be so bad as that, of course. But you never can tell. Undoubtedly there are elements for a pretty good story in the case, and some man, with nothing more important to write up, is bound to make the most of it somewhere. Then other papers will copy. There's sure to be unpleasant publicity, my dear, if the truth once leaks out.”

”But what--what HAD you planned to do?” she faltered, shuddering again.

”Well, I HAD planned something like this: pretty quick, now, Mr. Smith was to announce the completion of his Blaisdell data, and, with properly grateful farewells, take his departure from Hillerton. He would go to South America. There he would go inland on some sort of a simple expedition with a few native guides and carriers, but no other companion. Somewhere in the wilderness he would shed his beard and his name, and would emerge in his proper person of Stanley G. Fulton and promptly take pa.s.sage for the States. Of course, upon the arrival in Chicago of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, there would be a slight flurry at his appearance, and a few references to the hundred-thousand-dollar gifts to the Eastern relatives, and sundry speculations as to the why and how of the exploring trip. There would be various rumors and alleged interviews; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton never was noted for his communicativeness, and, after a very short time, the whole thing would be dismissed as probably another of the gentleman's well-known eccentricities. And there it would end.”

”Oh, I see,” murmured Miss Maggie, in very evident relief. ”That would be better--in some ways; only it does seem terrible not to--to tell them who you are.”

”But we have just proved that to do that wouldn't bring happiness anywhere, and would bring misery everywhere, haven't we?”

”Y-yes.”

”Then why do it?--particularly as by not doing it I am not defrauding anybody in the least. No; that part isn't worrying me a bit now--but there is one point that does worry me very much.”

”What do you mean? What is it?”

”Yourself. My scheme gets Stanley G. Fulton back to life and Chicago very nicely; but it doesn't get Maggie Duff there worth a cent! Maggie Duff can't marry Mr. John Smith in Hillerton and arrive in Chicago as the wife of Stanley G. Fulton, can she?”

”N-no, but he--he can come back and get her--if he wants her.” Miss Maggie blushed.

”If he wants her, indeed!” (Miss Maggie blushed all the more at the method and the fervor of Mr. Smith's answer to this.) ”Come back as Mr.

Stanley G. Fulton, you mean?” went on Mr. Smith, smiling at Miss Maggie's hurried efforts to smooth her ruffled hair. ”Too risky, my dear! He'd look altogether too much like--like Mr. John Smith.”

”But your beard will be gone--I wonder how I shall like you without a beard.” She eyed him critically.

Mr. Smith laughed and threw up his hands with a doleful shrug.

”That's what comes of courting as one man and marrying as another,” he groaned. Then, sternly: ”I'll warn you right now, Maggie Duff, that Stanley G. Fulton is going to be awfully jealous of John Smith if you don't look out.”

”He should have thought of that before,” retorted Miss Maggie, her eyes mischievous. ”But, tell me, wouldn't you EVER dare to come--in your proper person?”