Mr. Chipfellow's Jackpot

by Dick Purcell

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Being one of the richest men in the world, it was only natural that many people anticipated the day he would die. For someone should claim--

  Mr. Chipfellow's Jackpot

  _by Dick Purcell_

  "I'm getting old," Sam Chipfellow said, "and old men die."

  His words were an indirect answer to a question from Carter Hagen, hisattorney. The two men were standing in an open glade, some distance fromSam Chipfellow's mansion at Chipfellow's Folly, this being the name Samhimself had attached to his huge estate.

  Sam lived there quite alone except for visits from relatives and thosewho claimed to be relatives. He needed no servants nor help of any kindbecause the mansion was completely automatic. Sam did not live alonefrom choice, but he was highly perceptive and it made him uncomfortableto have relatives around with but one thought in their minds: _When areyou going to die and leave me some money?_

  Of course, the relatives could hardly be blamed for entertaining thisthought. It came as naturally as breathing because Sam Chipfellow wasone of those rare individuals--a scientist who had made money; all kindsof money; more money than almost anybody. And after all, his relativeswere no different than those of any other rich man. They felt they hadrights.

  Sam was known as The Genius of the Space Age, an apt title because theremight not have been any space without him. He had been extremelyversatile during his long career, having been responsible for theso-called eternal metals--metal against which no temperature, corrosive,or combinations of corrosives would prevail. He was also the pioneer oftelepower, the science of control over things mechanical through theelectronic emanations of thought waves. Because of his investigationsinto this power, men were able to direct great ships by merely"thinking" them on their proper courses.

  These were only two of his contributions to progress, there being manyothers. And now, Sam was facing the mystery neither he nor any otherscientist had ever been able to solve.

  Mortality.

  There was a great deal of activity near the point at which the menstood. Drills and rock cutters had formed three sides of an enclosure ina ridge of solid rock, and now a giant crane was lowering thick slabs ofmetal to form the walls. Nearby, waiting to be placed, lay the slabwhich would obviously become the door to whatever Sam was building. Itssurface was entirely smooth, but it bore great hinges and some sort of alocking device was built in along one edge.

  Carter Hagen watched the activity and considered Sam's reply to hisquestion. "Then this is to be a mausoleum?"

  Sam chuckled. "Only in a sense. Not a place to house my dead bones ifthat's what you mean."

  Carter Hagen, understanding this lonely old man as he did, knew furtherquestions would be useless. Sam was like that. If he wanted you to knowsomething, he told you.

  So Carter held his peace and they returned to the mansion where Sam gavehim a drink after they concluded the business he had come on.

  Sam also gave Carter something else--an envelope. "Put that in yoursafe, Carter. You're comparatively young. I'm taking it for granted youwill survive me."

  "And this is--?"

  "My will. All old men should leave wills and I'm no exception to therule. When I'm dead, open it and read what's inside."

  * * * * *

  Carter Hagen regarded the envelope with speculation. Sam smiled. "Ifyou're wondering how much I left you, Carter, I'll say this: You mightget it all."

  Hagen strove to appear nonchalant but his eyes widened regardless. Samenjoyed this. He said, "Yes, you'll have as much chance as anyone else."

  "You mean as much chance as any of your relatives?"

  "I mean what I said--as much as anyone. I've given them no moreconsideration than anyone else."

  Carter Hagen stared, puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't understand you."

  "I didn't expect you to, but that will come later. I'll tell you thismuch, though. No one will be barred. The winner will take all, and thewinner may be anyone on this planet. My one regret is that I won't bearound to see who gets the jackpot."

  Carter Hagen dutifully pocketed the will and left. He returned on otherbusiness a week later. Sam Chipfellow's first question was, "Well, whatdid you think of it?"

  "Think of what?"

  "My will."

  Carter Hagen straightened to an indignant five-foot-six. "Mr.Chipfellow, I don't like having my integrity questioned. Your will wasin a sealed envelope. You instructed me to read it after your death. Ifyou think I'm the sort of man who would violate a trust--"

  Sam put a drink into his attorney's hand. "Here, take this. Calm down."

  Carter Hagen gulped the drink and allowed his feathers to smooth down.As he set down his glass, Sam leaned back and said, "Now that that'sover, let's get on with it. Tell me--what did you think of my will?"

  The attorney flushed. It was no use trying to fool Chipfellow. He was amaster at that damned thought business. "I--I did look at it. I couldn'tresist the temptation. The envelope was so easily opened."

  Sam was regarding him keenly but without anger. "I know you're a crook,Hagen, but no more so than most people. So don't sit there cringing."

  "This will is--well, amazing, and getting an advance look didn't help mea bit unless--" Hagen looked up hopefully. "--unless you're willing togive me a slight clue--"

  "I'll give you nothing. You take your chances along with the rest."

  Hagen sighed. "As to the will itself, all I can say is that it's boundto cause a sensation."

  "I think so too," Sam said, his eyes turning a trifle sad. "It's too bada man has to die just at the most interesting point of his life."

  "You'll live for years, Mr. Chipfellow. You're in fine condition."

  "Cut it out. You're itching for me to shuffle off so you can get a crackat what I'm leaving behind."

  "Why, Mr.--"

  "Shut up and have another drink."

  * * * * *

  Carter Hagen did not have long to wait as life-times go. Eighteen monthslater, Sam Chipfellow dropped dead while walking in his garden. The newswas broadcast immediately but the stir it caused was nothing to theworldwide reaction that came a few days later.

  This was after all the relatives, all those who thought they had a faintchance of proving themselves relatives, and representatives of thepress, radio, and video, gathered in the late Sam Chipfellow's mansionto hear the reading of the will. Carter Hagen, seeking to control hisexcitement, stood before a microphone installed for the benefit of thosewho couldn't get in.

  He said, "This is the last will and testament of Samuel Chipfellow,deceased. As his lawyer, it becomes my duty to--"

  An angry murmur went up from those assembled. Exclamations ofimpatience. "Come on! Get on with it. Quit making a speech and read thewill, we can't wait all day!"

  "Quiet, please, and give me your closest attention. I will read slowlyso all may hear. This is Mr. Chipfellow's last testament:

  "_I, Samuel B. Chipfellow, have made a great deal of money during myactive years. The time now comes when I must decide what will become ofit after my death. I have made my decision, but I remain in the peculiarposition of still not knowing what will become of it. Frankly, I'm ofthe opinion that no one will ever benefit from it--that it will remainin the place I have secreted it until the end of time._"

  A murmur went up from the crowd.

  "A treasure hunt!" someone cried. "I wonder if they'll distribute maps!"

  Carter Hagen raised his hand. "Please! Let's have a little more order orthe reading will not continu
e."

  The room quieted and Hagen's droning voice was again raised:

  "_This place consists of a vault I have had erected upon my grounds.This vault, I assure you, is burglar-proof, weather-proof,cyclone-proof, tornado-proof, bomb-proof. Time will have no effect uponits walls. It could conceivably be thrown free in some great volcanicupheaval but even then the contents would remain inaccessible._

  "_There is only one way the vault can be opened. Its lock is sensitizedto respond to a thought. That's what I said--a thought. I have selecteda single, definite, clear-cut thought to which the combination willrespond._

  "_There is a