"I haven't met him for twenty years, but we are acquainted. I suppose he is prosperous."
"He is considered a rich man, sir. He is a relation of mine."
"Indeed! What then is your name?" asked the old man, eagerly.
"Herbert Barton—most people call me Bert Barton."
Bert was surprised at the keen scrutiny which he received from the traveller.
"Was your mother Mary Marlowe?" the latter asked.
"Yes, sir," returned Bert. "Did you know her, too?"
"I ought to; she is my niece, as the man you call Squire Marlowe is my nephew."
"Then you must be Uncle Jacob, who has lived so many years in California?" said Bert, excitedly.
"The same."