“Hector Roscoe going to California!” he inwardly ejaculated. “What can be his object, and where did he raise money to go?”
Conscience whispered: “He has gone to ferret out the fraud which you have practiced upon him, and his mission is fraught with peril to you.”
Allan Roscoe returned to his elegant home in a state of nervous agitation, which effectually prevented him from enjoying the luxuries he was now able to command. A sword seemed suspended over him, but he resolved not to give up the large stake for which he played so recklessly without a further effort.
By the next mail he wrote a confidential letter to an old acquaintance in San Francisco.
CHAPTER XXXIV. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SAN FRANCISCO.
Hector was seasick for the first twenty-four hours, but at the end of that time he had become accustomed to the rise and fall of the billows, and was prepared to enjoy himself as well as he could in the confined quarters of an ocean steamer.
Of course, he made acquaintances. Among them was a clergyman, of middle age, who was attracted by our hero’s frank countenance. They met on deck, and took together the “constitutional” which travelers on shipboard find essential for their health.
“You seem to be alone?” said the clergyman.
“Yes, sir.”