Now that Hector had succeeded in the main object of his journey, he had
time to think of his own affairs. It was most important for him to visit
Sacramento and make inquiries into the matter that so nearly concerned
him.
“I must find out,” he said to himself, “whether I am entitled to the
name I bear, or whether I only received it by adoption.”
The second day after his discovery of Gregory Newman, he said to him:
“Gregory, business of importance calls me to Sacramento. Do you wish to
go with me?”
“Does the business in any way relate to me?” asked Gregory.
“Not at all.”
“Then I prefer to remain in San Francisco.”
“Can I trust you not to fall back into your old ways?” asked Hector.
“Yes; I have had enough of them,” answered Gregory, and there was a
sincerity in his tone which convinced Hector that he might safely leave
him.
“I shall probably stay overnight,” he said. “If I stay any longer, I
will telegraph to you.”
Arrived in Sacramento, Hector sought out the residence of the Rev. Mr.
Richards, whose acquaintance he had made on board the steamer.
His clerical friend received him with evident pleasure.
“How have you fared, my young friend?” he asked.
“Very well, sir. I have succeeded in my mission.”
“Then you have found the youth you were in search of?”
“Yes, sir; moreover, I have induced him to return home with me, and turn
over a new leaf.”
“That is indeed good news. And now, I think I have also good news for
you.”
“Please let me know it, sir,” said Hector, eagerly.
“I have found the lady with whom your father and mother boarded while
they were in Sacramento.”
“What does she say?”
“She says,” answered Mr. Richards, promptly, “that you are Mr. Roscoe’s
own son, and were born in her house.”
“Thank Heaven!” ejaculated Hector.
“Nor is this all. I have found the minister who baptized you. He is
still living, at a very advanced age--the Rev. Mr. Barnard. I called
upon him, and recalled his attention to the period when your father
lived in the city. I found that he remembered both your parents very
well. Not only that, but he has a very full diary covering that time, in
which he showed me this record:
“‘Baptized, June 17th, Hector, the son of Thomas and Martha Roscoe; a
bright, healthy child, in whom the parents much delight.”
“Then it seems to me,” said Hector, “that my case is a very strong one.”
“Unusually so. In fact, it could not be stronger. I marvel how Allan
Roscoe, your uncle, could have ventured upon a fraud which could be so
easily proved to be such.”
“He depended upon Sacramento being so far away,” said Hector. “He
thought I would accept my father’s letter without question.”
“That letter was undoubtedly forged,” said the minister.
“It must have been, but it was very cleverly forged. The handwriting
was a very close copy of my father’s.” It was a great pleasure to Hector
that he could say “my father” without a moment’s doubt that he was
entitled to say so.
“He thought, also, that you would not have the means to come here to
investigate for yourself,” said Mr. Richards.
“Yes, and he would have been right but for the commission Mr. Newman
gave me. What course would you advise me to take,” asked Hector, a
little later, “to substantiate my claim?”
“Get Mrs. Blodgett’s and Rev. Mr. Barnard’s sworn affidavits, and place
them in the hands of a reliable lawyer, requesting him to communicate
with your uncle.”
This advice seemed to Hector to be wise, and he followed it.
Fortunately, he had no difficulty in inducing both parties to accede to
his request. The next day he returned to San Francisco.