The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1899-12-07

you withouts so much as telling her, not
thinking I'd be gone half hour; but .
it was after IL before | left your house.
l left suddenly when those walls fellin.
The lire was near us, and knew the
wife would be frightened. Why, didn't
even know of your uncle's death till the
next morning. But, if the date Of the
will and the storm and the fire are not
enough, look up the death certificate.
My memory wouldn't help anything
'"Ihe date on the death certificate is
the same as the will-December 5, 1882"
Stanton replied.
"Well," the judge muttered. and
Stanton! For Heavens sake! That
was ten years ago tonight! Oh, Stan.
ton, are you crazy?"
II think not" said Stanton.
You are! You are!" cried the Judge.
do you Know that some one else will
claim the property2"
1.-THE papers We're served to-day"
do you know who the claimant ISL"
II met him once year ago." said
Stanton. The judge was too excited to
see the muscles of his face contract.
Met him once, did you?" the Judge
almostshouted, with q sneer. Met him
the time he walked away with your
wife, did you? Well, sit down, young
man, and keep quiet. I have something
to say to You. I'm pledged to your uncle
never to speak, but will. You deserve
it. Your uncle and your mother were
turned out of their home when your
mother was only a child to make room
for 4 daughter born to their stepmoth-
err. They never saw their father again,
or their half-sister, but years after
wards a fellow named Raymond-the
father of the one you met-settled
down on John Olmstead, calling himself
his brother-in-law, loafing on him, liv-
ing on him, cheating him, even forging
his name time and again. Why, for the
last ten years of his life John Olmstead
couldn't be forced to repeat the name
of Raymond. But this son, by some ras-
cality, got hold of some papers that
were frauds from the beginning, only
there was no way to prove them so ex-
cept by bringing into court the life his
tory of your uncle's wife, and he would
never hear of that for a moment. He
let them bleed him instead.
Now your uncle loved you and did
every thing in his power for you. He
wantedyou to marry, and he had right
| to. It was common sense, and IT wasn't
common sense for you to stick it out
this way. When he died he left you
| everything, on the one, condition that
you would marry within ten years.
No man could have been left freer to
| take his time and make his choice. He
left this Raymond ten thousand if he'd
give up those papers and sign off his
claim. But he wouldn't take it. He was
playing for the whole. No one else
thought you'd be such an eternal fool
as to stand out for ten years against
your uncle's wishes, your friends and
common sense.
He kept his eye on you, and when
you did almost blunder into marrying
he deliberately walked off with your
wife. He didn't want the woman. Oh,
no. Lombard thinks he already had an
other wife, out west. At all events, be-
fore she'd been out there long she wrote
back that she'd made terrible discov-
cry and was coming home at once. She
never reached home. Young Raymond
was not with her when she started, but
his father followed her. She died, sud
denly, OH the way. No one found out
what it was that she discovered, but
Lombard satisfied himself that she was
murdered, and that it was the old Ray
mond who did it. He disappeared, and
nothing could be found Of him till it was
told that he died. year or more ago, in
California.
"Now the son comes up for his re-
ward, and you have paid it,"
With a savage grunt Judge Russell
rose, stuffed his hands deep into his
pockets, and stood glazing at John Ohm
stead's nephew.
Slowly Stanton rose, too, and, speak
ing deliberately, replied:
You knew that I was ignorant Of
this, but you expected me to follow a