tranger
telegraphed for Bogle, and that faithful black, once familiar in the
streets of Alresford, suddenly made his appearance there, began
reconnoitring the house at Tichborne, contrived to get inside the old
home, to learn that it had been let by the trustees of the infant
baronet to a gentleman named Lushington, and to examine carefully the
position of the old and new pictures hanging on the walls. This done,
the stranger and his black attendant disappeared as suddenly as they
had come. But the news spread abroad, and reached many persons who
were interested. Roger's numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins heard of
the sudden appearance of the long-expected Australian claimant. The
Dowager in Paris, the mother of the infant, then at Ryde, all heard
the news; and finally Mr. Gosford, Roger's dearest and most intimate
friend and confidant, then in North Wales, got intelligence, and
hastened to London to ascertain if the joyful news could be true.

But the enormous individual had vanished again. The circumstance was
strange. Bogle had written letters from Australia declaring that this
was the identical gentleman he had known years before as Mr. Roger
Tichborne when a visitor at Sir Edward's; and the Dowager had declared
herself satisfied. But why did the long-lost Roger hold aloof? No one
could tell. There was no reason for such conduct, and so suspicion was
engendered. With infinite pains Mr. Gosford and a gentleman connected
with the Tichborne family ascertained that the person who had figured
as Mr. Taylor at the Swan had taken apartments for himself and his
family at a hotel near Manchester Square, and that he had even been
there since Christmas day. But once more the clue was lost. Sir Roger
Tichborne had gone away with his wife and children, and left no one
there but Bogle and his secretary. Then by chance Mr. Gosford
discovered that "Sir Roger" was staying at the Clarendon Hotel,
Gravesend. Forthwith Mr. Gosford, with the gentleman referred to, and
Mr. Cullington, the solicitor, went to the Clarendon Hotel at
Gravesend, where, after long waiting in the hall, they saw a stout
person muffled, and wearing a peaked cap over the eyes, who, having
glanced at the party suspiciously, rushed past them, hurried upstairs,
and locked himself in a room. In vain the party sent up cards, in vain
they followed and tapped at the door. The stout person would not open,
and the party descended to the coffee-room, where soon afterwards