“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.