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.