One old Carabineer was librarian at the Westminster Hospital. His name was Manton, and he was a sergeant. He told Baigent something that had happened while Roger was his officer, and Baigent told the Claimant. Manton afterwards saw the huge man, and failed to recognize him in any way. But when the Claimant repeated to him what he had told Baigent, Manton opened his eyes. This looked like proof of his being the man. He was struck with his marvellous recollection, and was at once pinned down to an affidavit:—
"The Claimant's voice is stronger, and has less foreign accent," he swore; "but I recognized his voice, and found his tone and pronunciation to be the same as Roger Tichborne's, whom I knew as an officer."
Truly an affidavit is a powerful auxiliary in fraud.
While Mr. Hawkins was replying one afternoon, Mr. Whalley, M.P., came in and sat next to the Claimant. He was from the first one of his most enthusiastic supporters.
"Well," he said, "and how are we getting on to-day? How are we getting on, eh?"
"Getting on!" growled the Claimant; "he's been going on at a pretty rate, and if he goes on much longer I shall begin to think I am Arthur Orton after all."
I will conclude this chapter with the following reminiscences by Lord
Brampton himself.]
* * * * *
I had a great deal to put up with from day to day in many ways during this prolonged investigation. The Lord Chief Justice, Cockburn, although good, was a little impatient, and hard to please at times.
My opponent sought day by day some cause of quarrel with me. At times he was most insulting, and grew almost hourly worse, until I was compelled, in order to stop his insults, to declare openly that I would never speak to him again on this side the grave, and I never did. My life was made miserable, and what ought to have been a quiet and orderly performance was rendered a continual scene of bickering and conflict, too often about the most trifling matters.