"What in the name of all that's unlucky can have brought that boy here at this time?" Stephen Ray was saying to himself. He never for an instant doubted Ernest's identity--in fact, he could not well have done so, for he bore a strong resemblance to Dudley Ray, who had been a strikingly handsome man, very much the superior of Stephen in personal attractions. Stephen Ray's curiosity was excited. Ernest did not appear like the average poor relation. He was quite as well dressed as Clarence. Besides, he had registered at a high-priced hotel, and this alone showed that he was not cramped for means. This gave him some satisfaction, as it made it less likely that he would appeal to him for assistance. Stephen Ray was rather surprised that Clarence made no further reference to Ernest. Had he known that the two had had a conversation he would have been seriously disturbed. He only hoped that Bolton would not get hold of the boy. CHAPTER XXXV. MR. BOLTON AND HIS CLIENT. Benjamin Bolton sat at his desk in the law office of Albert Norcross, on Nassau Street. He was well, even handsomely dressed, and looked very unlike the shabby tramp who had called months before at the house of Stephen Ray. He was really a man of ability, and this his employer had found out. He had raised Bolton's salary to a liberal figure, and felt that in securing his services he had made a real acquisition. Bolton was absorbed in preparation for a case which had been assigned to him, when a boy came to his desk with a card. Bolton no sooner read the name, "Ernest Ray," than he became eager and excited. "Tell him to come in," he said. Ernest, quiet and self-possessed, entered the office and approached the lawyer's desk. "Are you Mr. Bolton?" he asked "Yes, and you--" "I am Ernest Ray." Benjamin Bolton looked keenly at the boy, admiring his handsome face and manly bearing. "I see your father's looks in you," he said. "Then you knew my father?" said Ernest, eagerly. "Yes. We were young men together." "I am glad to meet you then." "You come from California?" "Yes." "I judge from your appearance that you have not suffered from poverty." "I have been fortunate at Oreville. At Oak Forks I lived very humbly with Peter Brant, an old servant of my father." "Yes, I remember Peter. Is he alive still?" "No, he died a little less than a year since. Till his death I thought him my uncle, and knew no other relatives. Before he died he told me who I was." "How did he live?" "On a small sum left by my father. When he died it was all exhausted except a hundred dollars. I took that and went to California with a man named Luke Robbins, who has proved my faithful friend." "What were you doing in California? Were you working at the mines?" "No. I was keeping a store where I sold miners supplies." "Did it pay you well?" "I was very well paid for a boy. When I left Oreville I was worth a thousand dollars."