“Then it is clear that he meant to have me retain his own name,” said Hector, decisively.
“That does not follow.”
“As I know no other name to which I have a claim, I shall certainly keep the name of the kindest friend I ever had, whether he was my father or not,” said Hector, firmly.
Allan Roscoe looked annoyed.
“Really,” he said, “I think this ill-judged, very ill-judged. It will lead to misapprehension. It will deceive people into the belief that you are a real Roscoe.”
“I don’t know but I am,” answered Hector, with a calm look of defiance, which aggravated Allan Roscoe.
“Have I not told you you are not?” he said, frowning.
“You have; but you have not proved it,” said Hector.
“I am surprised that you should cling to a foolish delusion. You are only preparing trouble for yourself. If my word is not sufficient—”
“You are an interested party. This story, if true, gives you my property.”