“Has he, then, returned?” asked Allan, his heart sinking.

“He is in the city, and expects us to meet him at two o’clock this afternoon, at the office of his lawyer, Mr. Parchment.”

Now, Mr. Parchment was one of the most celebrated lawyers at the New York bar, and the fact that Hector had secured his services showed Allan Roscoe that the matter was indeed serious.

“How could he afford to retain so eminent a lawyer?” asked Allan Roscoe, nervously.

“Titus Newman, the millionaire merchant, backs him.”

“Do you think there is anything in his case?” asked Allan, slowly.

“I can tell better after our interview at two o’clock.”

At five minutes to two Allan Roscoe and Mr. Tape were ushered into the private office of Mr. Parchment.

“Glad to see you, gentlemen,” said the great lawyer, with his usual courtesy.

Two minutes later Hector entered, accompanied by Mr. Newman.  Hector nodded coldly to his uncle.  He was not of a vindictive nature, but he could not forget that this man, his own near relative, had not only deprived him of his property, but conspired against his life.

“Hector,” said Allan Roscoe, assuming a confidence he did not feel, “I am amazed at your preposterous claim upon the property my brother left to me.  This is a poor return for his kindness to one who had no claim upon him.”

“Mr. Parchment will speak for me,” said Hector, briefly.

“My young client,” said the great lawyer, “claims to be the son of the deceased Mr. Roscoe, and, of course, in that capacity, succeeds to his father’s estate.”

“It is one thing to make the claim, and another to substantiate it,” sneered Allan Roscoe.

“Precisely so, Mr. Roscoe,” said Mr. Parchment.  “We quite agree with you.  Shall I tell you and your learned counsel what we are prepared to prove?”

Mr. Roscoe nodded uneasily.

“We have the affidavits of the lady with whom your brother boarded in Sacramento, and in whose house my young client was born.  We have, furthermore, the sworn testimony of the clergyman, still living, who baptized him, and we can show, though it is needless, in the face of such strong proof, that he was always spoken of in his infancy by Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe as their child.”

“And I have my brother’s letter stating that he was only adopted,” asserted Allan Roscoe.

“Even that, admitting it to be genuine,” said Mr. Parchment, “cannot disprove the evidence I have already alluded to.  If you insist upon it, however, we will submit the letter to an expert, and—­”

“This is a conspiracy.  I won’t give up the estate,” said Allan, passionately.

“We also claim that there is a conspiracy,” said Mr. Parchment, smoothly, “and there is one circumstance that will go far to confirm it.”

“What is that?” demanded Allan Roscoe.

“It is the attempt made upon my young client’s life in San Francisco by an agent of yours, Mr. Roscoe.”