Robert and his new employer started the same morning on their western trip. From the first Robert was haunted by the thought that he had seen Fitzgerald somewhere before. The man's features looked familiar to him, but he had no associations, or could recall none, connected with him. Fitzgerald, however, who remembered very well his past connection with the boy, was afraid that he would succeed in remembering him, and grew uneasy when he saw Robert's bright, expressive eyes fixed upon him.

"You seem interested in my appearance," he said, dryly.

Robert answered quickly: "I beg your pardon, Mr. Fitzgerald, for staring at you. Somehow your features looked familiar to me, and I was trying to think whether I had ever met you before."

"Very possibly you may have seen me, for I have been something of a traveller," answered his employer; "but we never knew each other. I should have remembered you."

"Very like I may have seen you at some place where we gave an entertainment," said Robert.

"I was at Crampton, you know."

"I mean longer ago than that. I have a queer feeling as if some time you were connected with me in some way," said Robert, thoughtfully.

Fitzgerald was secretly uneasy. If Robert's recollections should become clearer, and he should come to suspect the truth, then good-by to his plans, for the boy would of course be on his guard. His ingenuity came to his aid.

"It is more likely," he said, in an apparently indifferent tone, "that I resemble some such person. The fact is," he added with a forced laugh, "I once came near falling a victim to my unfortunate resemblance to a rascal. I was arrested on suspicion of being a forger or something of the sort, because I looked like the real culprit. Of course the truth came out, but not until I had been subjected to some inconvenience."

This explanation seemed satisfactory to Robert, who gave up his scrutiny of his employer, convinced that he had been deluded by a fancied or real resemblance.

They made a day's stop at Buffalo, and went from there to Niagara Falls, which Robert had never before seen. He naturally derived a rare enjoyment from the sight of the great cataract. He was hurried away from the falls by Fitzgerald in consequence of a conversation which the boy had with a stranger, which grievously alarmed his employer.

This is how it happened:

Robert and Fitzgerald were on Goat Island. Our hero was looking earnestly at the mighty cataract, and did not observe that a stranger was looking earnestly at him. Fitzgerald had strayed to a little distance, and was not within earshot.

Robert was roused from his revery by a tap upon the shoulder.

Turning he saw a man of forty-five, well dressed, and apparently a man of position.

"Did you wish to speak to me, sir?" he inquired.

"Yes," answered the stranger. "You will, perhaps, think me curious if I ask your name?"

"My name is Robert Rudd."

Robert thought it probable that the stranger had seen him riding somewhere, and recognized him from this, though he could not call him by name. But the name seemed to tell the inquirer nothing. On the contrary, he appeared to be disappointed.

"I suppose I am mistaken, then," he said, apologetically; "but I can only say in apology for my curiosity, that you bear a remarkable resemblance to an old school-mate of mine."

"Who was he?" asked Robert, eagerly.

It must be borne in mind that the boy knew nothing of his own family, and earnestly desired, though he never expected, to solve the mystery of his birth.

"His name was Julian Richmond. Are you, by chance, related to him?"

"Not that I know of," answered Robert, soberly. "Would you mind telling me something about him?"

Rather wondering at our hero's curiosity in regard to a man of whom he had never before heard, the stranger answered, "Certainly, if you would like to hear. Julian and I were school-fellows together in Albany, where I live now. His father, old Cornelius Richmond, was a rich man. I believe he is still living on a fine estate along the Hudson. When we grew up the Richmonds moved away and I lost sight of them. I heard, however, that Julian went out West and married. A coldness sprang up between him and his father, for what reason I don't know. I don't know whether they were ever reconciled. At any rate, poor Julian died, as I some time after heard, leaving his father childless. If you were Julian's son you could not look more like him."

Robert listened to this communication with intense interest. Could it be that this Julian Richmond was his father? It was the first clew of any kind that he had ever found, and he repeated over to himself the names of Julian and Cornelius Richmond, determined to remember them, and some time to make further inquiries.

Meanwhile Fitzgerald, turning, noticed that Robert was conversing with a stranger. Though he was far from suspecting that an important secret has been revealed to the boy, he was naturally of a cautious temperament, and he thought it imprudent to allow Robert to become intimate with any one, lest possibly when he disappeared he might be suspected of having had some agency in the affair. He therefore walked up rapidly to where the two were conversing.

"Robert," he called, when two rods distant.

Robert obeyed the summons.

"I think we will go back to the hotel. I have something to do before leaving Niagara, and there is not much time."

"O, Mr. Fitzgerald," said Robert, eagerly, "that gentleman tells me I look very much like an old school-mate of his."

Fitzgerald was instantly alarmed. He knew, for Hugo had told him, that the boy bore a wonderful resemblance to his dead father, and, of course, that father must have old friends and acquaintances who would see the resemblance and possibly betray it to the boy.

"Is there anything so remarkable in that?" he asked. "Probably there are hundreds of people whom you resemble."

"But he said I looked as if I might be this man's son," continued Robert.

"Did he mention the name of this old school-mate?" inquired Fitzgerald, alarmed.

"Yes; he said his name was Julian Richmond."

If Robert had been watching the countenance of his employer he would have seen a sudden look of dismay which might have roused his suspicions, but he was taking a last look at the great cataract.

"Very likely!" said Fitzgerald, after a slight pause. "I have been told plenty of times that I looked like this one and that one."

"But you know your family, and I do not. I have no knowledge of who my father was, and so I hoped that I might hear something that would reveal it to me. May I ask the gentleman his name? I might like to—"

"No," answered Fitzgerald, with an abrupt harshness that made Robert survey him in astonishment. "You are too old to be so childish. I have no time to lose. Come at once with me to the hotel."

"It wouldn't take a minute."

"Do you hear what I say?" said his employer, angrily.

Robert was too proud to make any further request. He was puzzled at the extraordinary manner of Fitzgerald, for which there seemed no occasion. It was the first time that his new employer had spoken to him harshly, and he was unable to account for it. He did not press the request, being unwilling to subject himself to any further rudeness. Had he known how important that inquiry was, he would have made it at all hazards. As it was, his curiosity had been excited, but he had no suspicion that he was already on the threshold of the secret which had always been withheld from him.

Robert was proud, and his proud spirit rebelled against his employer's rudeness; but he was not in a position to break with him. He had taken no money with him, and was of course dependent upon Fitzgerald. He was hundreds of miles away from his good friends the Greys, and it was the part of prudence not to manifest the resentment he felt. If he had had in his pocket the two hundred dollars which belonged to him he might have acted differently. As it was, he preserved a dignified silence.

Fitzgerald, on arriving at the hotel, made arrangements to leave at once. When they were fairly on their way he changed his manner, became conciliatory and affable, and apparently endeavored to make Robert forget his harsh words.

"I suppose he spoke hastily," thought Robert. "He could not know how important it seemed to me to make any inquiries about my family. At any rate, I know the gentleman lives in Albany, and some day I will hunt him up."