But in the interests of justice "Old Bogle" and Mr. Hawkins became acquainted, much to the advantage of the latter, as he happened to meet Bogle in the witness-box, a place where the counsel unravelled the trickster's most subtle of designs. The advocate liked "Old Bogle," as he called him, because, said he, Bogle, having white hair, was so like a Malacca cane with a silver k.n.o.b, white at the top and black below.

Bogle had sworn that Roger had no tattoo marks when he left England.

In point of fact he had, and Bogle had to fit them to the Claimant, who had had tattoo marks of a very different kind from Roger's. The Claimant had removed his, and therefore was presented to the court without any.

"How do you know Roger had no tattoo marks?" asked Mr. Hawkins.

"I saw his arms on three occasions." This was a serious answer for Bogle.

"When and where, and under what circ.u.mstances?" followed in quick succession, so that there was no escape. The witness said that Roger had on a pair of black trousers tied round the waist, and his shirt b.u.t.toned up.

"The sleeves, how were they?"

"Loose."

"How came you to see his naked arms?"

"He was rubbing one of them like this."

"What did he rub for?"

"I thought he'd got a flea."

"Did you see it?"

"No, of course."

"Where was it?"

"Just there."

"What time was this?"

"Ten minutes past eleven."

"That's the first occasion; come to the second."

"Just the same," says Bogle.

"Same time?"

"Yes."

"Did he always put his hand inside his sleeve to rub?"

"I don't know."

"But I want to know."

"If your shirt was unb.u.t.toned, Mr. Hawkins, and you was rubbin' your arm, you would draw up your sleeve--"

"Never mind what I should do; I want to know what you saw."

"The same as before," answers Bogle angrily.

"A flea?"

"I suppose."

"But did you see him, Bogle?"

"I told you, Mr. Hawkins, I did not."

"Excuse me, that was on the first occasion."

"Well, this was the same."

"Same flea?"

"I suppose."

"Same time--ten minutes past eleven?"

"Yes."

"Then all I can say is, he must have been a very punctual old flea."

Exit Bogle, and with him his evidence.

After the trial had been proceeding for some time, Baigent was giving evidence of the family pedigree.

Honeyman whispered, "We might as well have the first chapter of Genesis and read that."

"Genesis!" said Hawkins; "I want to get to the last chapter of Revelation."

One day Mr. J.L. Toole came in, and was invited to sit next to Mr.

Hawkins, which he did.

At the adjournment for luncheon the Claimant muttered as they pa.s.sed along, "There's Toole come to learn actin' from 'Arry Orkins."

There was one witness who ought not to be forgotten. It was Mr.

Biddulph, a relation of the Tichborne family, a good-natured, amiable man, willing to oblige any one, and a county magistrate--"one of the most amiable county magistrates I have ever met, a man of the strictest honour and unimpeachable integrity."

He had been asked by the dowager lady to recognize her son.

"I don't see how I can," said he. "I am willing to oblige, but not at the expense of truth. Better get some one else who knew him better than I did. This man bears no resemblance to the man I knew. I cannot do it." And so he resisted all entreaties with that firmness of purpose for which he was remarkable.

"He was then invited," said Mr. Hawkins, "to a little dinner at another supporter of the Claimant's, and one somewhat shrewder than the rest." The Claimant described this party as consisting of a county magistrate, a money-lender, a lawyer, and a humbug.