Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 142, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 July 1917 — In Trust for Veronica [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

In Trust for Veronica

By Walter Joseph Delaney

(Copyright, by W. G. Chapman.) ‘•You are certainly a most extraornary client,” observed Rolfe Darwin, stockbroker, and he stared wonderingly at the hatchet-faced, keen-eyed little old man seated ut the side of his desk. "Why?” snapped his visitor with pis-tol-shot decisiveness —"because 1 happen to know just what I want?” “Not that —but the class of stock you are ordering* “Well?” “The one hundred thousand shares of mining securities include two companies that are insipid, one in the hands of a receiver and the last one a rank promotional swindle of the worst type.” “Proceed,” calmly suggested John Sterling, with a grim chuckle. “Of the mining stocks you have named, not one has ever paid a dividend.” “I’m not after dividends." i “It appears not," rejoined Dawson. “In fact, you are ordering shares of worthless stock, par value nearly a million dollars, present value so low that the securities are used only by cheap stockjobbers to trade in as a bonus where they make a real sale.” “You’re telling me nothing I don’t know,” advised Sterling coolly, but a trifle irritably. “I’ve given you a list of what I want. How soon can you have the stuff?” “Stuff, indeed!” muttered Dawson under his breath. “We don’t usually handle the class of securities you want,” he added aloud, “and you take them on your own responsibility, I will know by tomorrow at this hour

what we can gather up. I presume an average of a few cents will corner the lot. The entire cost won’t reach five hundred dollars.” “Very good, and dear at that,” said the old man. “There's two hundred dollars on account,” and he extracted the amount from a worn wallet and departed. . “I declare! This is the most refreshing novelty that ever came into this office,” soliloquized Rolfe. “What is the old fox, anyhow—a swindler? He don’t look it. I’d pay something to fathom his game." In a perfectly satisfied and businesslike manner, the next day, Mr. Sterling reappeared, received innumerable shares of stock, settled in full, stowed his new possessions in an inside pocket and nodded crisply to the broker, -i “Thank’ee,” he spoke tersely.

"One word,” suggested Rolfe, as his erratic client was about to leave—“l would like to ask you one question.” "Fire away,” directed Sterling ly“What are you going to do with that lot of rubbish?” The old man’s eyes twinkled. He Smiled shrewdly. ‘Tin £oing to start a million-dollar trust,” he chuckled, "and get even with the world.” It was an hour after his departure that Rolfe chanced to notice some papers lying under the chair where the old man had sat. He picked them up. One was a letter beginning, “Dear Father” and winding up with, "Your loving daughter, Veronica.” “I am inclosing a new photograph I had taken just after you left. . Hurry home. I am lonesome without you.” Rolfe stood staring at the counterfeit presentment of the loveliest face he had ever gazed upon. Then unconsciously he murmured the name, “Veronica.” --It had a sweetly appealing charm. The second paper was some kind of a schedule. It listed the item "One million dollars in securities.” '.“Homestead, eight thousand dollars,” '“Wild land in Canada, prospective value, one hundred thousand dollars,” i“Deed of trust inwavor of Veronica Sterling. Make Lfewyer Morse trustee.” '' I ■ ■' ' “The puzzle deepens,” meditated ißolfe. “Whatever in the world is the eld schemer up to, anyhow?” i Rnlfo placed 'the papers in an en-

velope and addressed it to “Johif Sterling, Mapleton,” where the old man had told jiim “he hailed from.” The documents were of no particular value, but Rolfe decided to mall them to their owner. He placed the envelope in his pocket unsealed. Half a dozen times that day he took from it the photograph. “I won’t mull it,” he decided late that afternoon. “I Just can’t get away from wanting to find out what bee this eccentric John Sterling has got in his bonnet,” which was subterfuge, pure and simple, for the old man’s daughter, Veronica. Rolfe was interested’-in. — “I need a Httle run out Into the couutry,finyh<y’.v,”hedeludedhTmself info believing, and the next morning he was on his way to Mapleton. Time and expense did not mean a great deal to Rolfe Darwin, for he was more than well validated in the way of money possessions. . ... Rolfe strolled around the pretty village and made a few 1 casual inquiries as to Mr. John Sterling. He learned that the old man had lived in the town for over thirty years, had lost his wife and fortune, but his great hopes and ambition centered around his daughter. Father and child were highly esteemed, but socially had lost some of their prestige since the former fortune of the old man had dwindled. There was the old homestead, however, a gossip told Rolfe, and some wood land, remote, worthless, and a limited income from a legacy the dead wife had left Veronica, but they had kept up appearances under difficulties. “Proud as Lucifer, the old man is,” declared Rolfe’s informant. “He thinks his daughter worthy of a prince. As to Miss Sterling, she is the sweetest. kindest creature in the town. Always helping somebody with klujK words, and out of her little store of money, too. He hopes to marry her to some millionaire. She has no such proud ideas. They say, though, that the old man has made a ten-strike.” “How is that?” pressed Rolfe. “Why, he was gone to the city for two weeks, and came back only yesterday. A lawyer friend of his, Mr. Morse, gave it out.that Mr. Sterling has made da investment to a large amount and has nearly one million dollars in securities and land in trust for Veronica. That will fetch the suitors about her.” Rolfe walked on. a sudden brilliant light shining upon his mind. He saw it all in a flash —John Sterling was “scheriiTng to marry off his”daughter in a good way, and the milllon-dollar trust was the bait with which he was to lure on the prospective husband. “My father is not at home,” spoke the original of the photograph, as Rolfe presented himself at the Sterling home, and his heart fluttered as he stood face to face with his fate. He knew it instantly, as those lovely eyes met his own.

“I have some papers belonging to Mr, Sterling,” he said, and Veronica invited him into the house, “as her father would be home in half an hour.” John Sterling looked startled to find the broker from the city in evidence. He mysteriously besought Rolfe to make no public mention of his “investments.” Rolfe was invited to tea. By the time he left the Sterling home he and Veronica were rare good friends. “I didn’t set the trap for you,” observed Sterling, one day a month later —the day that Rolfe asked him for the .hand of his daughter. “I’m glad to welcome you as my son-in-law, though, for you wasn't after the mil-lion-dollar trust, but Veronica only, the dear, sweet treasure that she isl” “I concur in that sentiment,” agreed Rolfe Dawson enthusiastically.

“I Am Going to Start a Million-Dollar Trust.”