Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute

In answer, Hector took from his pocket a photograph of Gregory and displayed it.

“How did you come by that?” asked Gregory, hurriedly. “Are you a detective?”

Gregory looked so startled that Hector had hard work not to laugh. It seemed ludicrous to him that he should be supposed to be a detective on Gregory’s track, as the boy evidently suspected.

“No,” he answered, “I am not a detective, but a friend. I have come out to San Francisco especially to find you.”

“You won’t inform against me?” asked Gregory, nervously.

“Not at all. I come as a friend, with a message from your uncle—”

“What is it?” asked Gregory, eagerly.

“He wants you to come back to New York, and he will give you another chance.”

“Is this true?”

“Yes; will you come?”

“I shall be glad to leave San Francisco,” said Gregory, fervently. “I have had no luck since I arrived here.”

“Do you think you deserved any?” said Hector, significantly.

“No, perhaps not,” Gregory admitted.

“When will you be ready to return?”

“You forget that I have no money.”

“I have, and will pay your passage.”

Gregory grasped the hands of our hero gratefully.

“You are a trump!” said he.

Then he looked at his wretched and dilapidated suit.

“I don’t like to go home like this,” he said. “I should be mortified if I met my uncle or any of my old acquaintances.”

“Oh, that can be remedied,” said Hector. “If you can lead the way to a good clothing house, where the prices are moderate, I will soon improve your appearance.”

“That I will!” answered Gregory, gladly.

Within five minutes’ walk was a good clothing house, on Kearney Street. The two entered, and a suit was soon found to fit Gregory. Then they obtained a supply of underclothing, and Gregory breathed a sigh of satisfaction. His self-respect returned, and he felt once more like his old self.

“Now,” said Hector, “I shall take you to my hotel, and enter your name as a guest. You and I can room together.”

“Do you know,” said Gregory, “I almost fear this is a dream, and that I shall wake up again a tramp, as you found me half an hour ago? I was almost in despair when you met me.”

Though Gregory seemed quite in earnest in his desire to turn over a new leaf, Hector thought it prudent to keep the funds necessary for their journey in his own possession. He gave a few dollars to Gregory as spending money, but disregarded any hints looking to a further advance.

CHAPTER XXXVI. HOW HECTOR SUCCEEDED IN SACRAMENTO

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: