As he was standing there, a man of forty touched him on the shoulder.

Hector turned, and was by no means attracted by the man’s countenance.  He was evidently a confirmed inebriate, though not at that time under the influence of liquor.  There was an expression of cunning, which repelled Hector, and he drew back.

“I say, boy,” said the stranger, “do you want to go in?”

“No, sir.”

“If you do, I know the ropes, and I’ll introduce you and take care of you.”

“Thank you,” said Hector, “but I don’t care to go in.”

“Are you afraid?” asked the man, with a slight sneer.

“Yes.  Haven’t I a reason?”

“Come, sonny, don’t be foolish.  Have you any money?”

“A little.”

“Give it to me and I’ll play for you.  I’ll double it in ten minutes, and I’ll only ask you five dollars for my services.”

“Suppose you lose?”

“I won’t lose,” said the man, confidently.  “Come,” he said, in a wheedling tone, “let me make some money for you.”

“Thank you, but I would rather not.  I don’t want to make money in any such way.”

“You’re a fool!” said the man, roughly, and with an air of disgust he left the spot, much to Hector’s relief.

Still Hector lingered, expecting he hardly knew what, but it chanced that fortune favored him.  He was just about to turn away, when a youth, two or three years older than himself in appearance, came out of the gambling house.  He was pale, and looked as if he had kept late hours.  He had the appearance, also, of one who indulges in drink.

When Hector’s glance fell upon the face of the youth, he started in great excitement.

“Surely,” he thought, “that must be Gregory Newman!”

CHAPTER XXXV.

The prodigal.

As the best way of getting into communication with the youth whom he suspected to be the object of his search, Hector asked him the name of the street.

On receiving an answer, he said, in an explanatory way: 

“I am a stranger here.  I only arrived on the last steamer.”

The other looked interested.

“Where do you come from?”

“From New York.”

“I used to live there,” said Gregory—­for it was he—­with a sigh.

“Have you bettered yourself by coming out here?” asked Hector.

Gregory shook his head.

“No,” he said; “I begin to think I was a fool to come at all.”

“Perhaps you had poor prospects in New York?” said Hector.

“No; my uncle is a rich merchant there.  I have some property, also, and he is my guardian.”

“Did he favor your coming?”

“No; he was very much opposed to it.”

“Perhaps I ought not to take such a liberty, but I begin to agree with you about your being a fool to leave such prospects behind you.”