know, I mean? Won't it be something of a shock, when John Smith turns
into Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? Have you thought of that?"

"Y-yes, I've thought of that, and I will confess my ideas are a little
hazy, in spots. But I'm not worrying. Time enough to think of that
part. Roughly, my plan is this now. There'll be two letters of
instructions: one to open in six months, the other to be opened in,
say, a couple of years, or so. (I want to give myself plenty of time
for my observations, you see.) The second letter will really give you
final instructions as to the settling of my estate--my will. I'll have
to make some sort of one, I suppose."

"But, good Heavens, Stanley, you--you--" the lawyer came to a helpless
pause. His eyes were startled.

"Oh, that's just for emergency, of course, in case anything--er--
happened. What I really intend is that long before the second letter
of instructions is due to be opened, Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will come
back from his South American explorations. He'll then be in a position
to settle his affairs to suit himself, and--er--make a new will.
Understand?"

"Oh, I see. But--there's John Smith? How about Smith?"

The millionaire smiled musingly, and stroked his chin again.

"Smith? Oh! Well, Smith will have finished collecting Blaisdell data,
of course, and will be off to parts unknown. We don't have to trouble
ourselves with Smith any longer."