“But I am safe enough,” he said to himself; “even if Hector discovered anything, something might happen to him, so that he might be unable to return.”

“Father,” said Guy, who had just dispatched an egg, “I want ten dollars this morning.”

“Ten dollars!” said his father, frowning.  “How is this?  Did I not give you your week’s allowance two days since?”

“Well, I’ve spent it,” answered Guy, “and I need some more.”

“You must think I am made of money,” said his father, displeased.

“It’s pretty much so,” said Guy, nonchalantly.  “Your income must be ten thousand a year.”

“I have a great many expenses.  How have you spent your allowance?”

“Oh, I can’t tell exactly.  It’s gone, at any rate.  You mustn’t become mean, father.”

“Mean!  Don’t I give you a handsome allowance?  Look here, Guy, I can’t allow such extravagance on your part.  This once I’ll give you five dollars, but hereafter, you must keep within your allowance.”

“Can’t you make it ten?”

“No, I can’t,” said his father, shortly.

Guy rose from the table, and left the room, whistling.

“The old man’s getting mean,” he said.  “If he doesn’t allow me more, I shall have to get in debt.”

As Guy left the room, the mail was brought in.  On one of the envelopes, Mr. Roscoe saw the name of his lawyer.  He did not think much of it, supposing it related to some minor matter of business.  The letter ran thus: 

“Allan Roscoe, ESQ.: 

“Dear sir:  Be kind enough to come up to the city at once.  Business of great importance demands your attention.

“Yours respectfully, Timothy Tape.”

“Mr. Tape is unusually mysterious,” said Allan Roscoe to himself, shrugging his shoulders.  “I will go up to-day.  I have nothing to keep me at home.”

Mr. Roscoe ordered the carriage, and drove to the depot.  Guy, noticing his departure, asked permission to accompany him.

“Not to-day, Guy,” he answered.  “I am merely going up to see my lawyer.”

Two hours later Mr. Roscoe entered the office of his lawyer.

“Well, Tape, what’s up?” he asked, in an easy tone.  “Your letter was mysterious.”

“I didn’t like to write explicitly,” said Mr. Tape, gravely.

“The matter, you say, is of great importance?”

“It is, indeed!  It is no less than a claim for the whole of your late brother’s estate.”

“Who is the claimant?” asked Allan Roscoe, perturbed.

“Your nephew, Hector.”

“I have no nephew Hector.  The boy called Hector Roscoe is an adopted son of my brother.”

“I know you so stated.  He says he is prepared to prove that he is the lawful son of the late Mr. Roscoe.”

“He can’t prove it!” said Allan Roscoe, turning pale.

“He has brought positive proof from California, so he says.”