A CHAT with the CLAIMANT'S FRIEND.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXII, Issue 7222, 10 January 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

A CHAT with the CLAIMANT'S FRIEND.

s"he release of the Claimant has naturally aroused much curiosity as to his future. 44 Sir Roger" lies perdu at present, so we (Pall Mall Gazette) despatched a representative to see his best friend, Mr. Quartermain East. '' He will stump the country and expose the conspiracy," said Mr. East, as we walked along one of the corridors of the Granville Hotel to his own snug retreat. When the doors of Dartmoor closed upon the Claimant ten years ago he had three staunch friends left, Lord Rivers, Mr. Guildford Onslow, and Mr. Quartermaine East, who promised to stand by 'him all through his troubles. Two-thirds of this trinity have gone the way' of all flesh, and the mantle of Elijah has fallen upon the shoulders of Mr. East. Yes, you may call him the 4 Claimantl will call him he he says, with a bland smile. But Mr. East • is a practical man, and has supported his beliefs right loyally in hard cash to the tune of thousands of pounds. "A Jesuit conspiracy, sir," he declares, a3 he gives the fire an energetic poke. J took a note of this and then examined with care some of the letters, documents, photographs, and volumes of evidence all relating to the Tiohborne esse, which Mr. East has ready to produce at a moment's notice. " Now, could an illiterate man have drawn these pictures he appeals, taking down from tho walla a couple of prettily-framed pen-and-ink sketches—one a horse's head, drawn with spirit, and a lion whose profile was intended as a caricature of Justice Mellor, both done by the Claimant in court. VISITS TO THE CLAIMANT. Convicts are allowed to receive visits from their friends at intervals, according to class, between the hours of two and four p.m. on any day except Sunday, as follows :—Thirdclass prisoners, once in six months ; secondclass, once in four months ; first-class, once in three months, and special, once in two months—each visit lasting for the space of half an hour. "I should think," said Mr. East, thinking the while, " that I have paid about thirty visits since his imprisonment." "Then you can tell me the story of his prison life. How has he lived ? how did he dress was he allowed to smoke ?—in fact, I should like to know everything." "Not so fast, please. It is true that I have paid him thirty visits at one time and another. But," adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses and tapping his forefinger on the table at which he Bat— " but W araer George was always present, and Warder George's duty was to stop the conversation when we broached a forbidden topic. Any discussion of prison discipline is forbidden, and George stepped in. But"— and my host chuckled—" Warder George is our friend ; I know it by the twinkle in his eye." I remarked, sotto voce, that I should like to have George to myself for an hour with a •sharp pencil and a largish note-book. But then prison officials are so discreet. . "ONLY SIXTEEN STONE."

"Why, you wouldn't know him. He Weighed twenty-four stone when he went into prison, and now, poor fellow, he's only sixteen, Where's the difference gone to He is in capital spirits, and looking forward to his release ; but he might walk down "Bond-street ' and nobody would know him now. Wapping, you say ? Pish ! His face is furrowed by the trickling stream of care, and the broodings of ten loug solitary years. Of course he has worked during these years. Now he is a famous tailor, and as for carpentering, why, his skill in dovetailing is unrivalled. He was always delighted to see me, but multiply twenty by thirty, and you have 600 minutes—that is ten hours— that I have spent in his company and George's during ten years. Do not think we sat together comfortably in a room, or even a cell. Imagine a rat-trap divided into three portions. lam at one end, George is in the middle, and Tichborne at the end. And yet you can shake hands.' All I can tell you is that he complains bitterly of his treatment En Dartmoor, and more I do not know at present." WHAT WILL HE DO WITH HIM?

" The Claimant has evaded the newspaper people as yet. We don't want a demonstration, you know," said Mr. East, and I have taken every means to prevent his being ' got at.' Won't I take you, sir ? You don't know ■what you are asking, I would not take my but there." And Mr. East grew quite red as he declined my offer to accompany him. " I have taken a snug little house in the wilds of Hampshire. Where ? No, it is a dead secret. Here is .the receipt for the ■ rent paid in advance, you see. It is furnished, and all ready for occupation." And that is the programme, so far as it was divulged. Heaven knows what schemes are revolving in Mr. East's fertile and philanthropic brain. ".When 1 get him to the wilds of Hampshire" it was most provoking to me to notice the ironical emphasis which. Mr. East kept laying on the "wilds"—"when I get him to the house in the wilds he will find his four childrenhis two sons and two daughtersand charming children they are, the eldest son as like Roger Tichborne in '53 as I am like that portrait," pointing to a picture of himself which hung on the wall. It will be a pathetic meeting, the father restored once more to his family. , , THE CLAIMANT'S WARDROBE.

* For" the' last fewyears the Claimant's wardrobe has been limited to one change. His dress has been that of an ordinary convicta rough blue serge jacket, brickdust breeches and blue hose and prison cap. Now he has doffed this unsightly garb—for ever, let us hope—Mr. Tus3aud should buy it and has arrayed himself from the following : Superior black dress suit (silk lined), morning coat suit, Chesterfield overcoat, six white , shirts, collars attaehed, six pairs merino hose, . three lambawool undervests, three pairs pants, one silk hat (Lincoln and Bennett), one felt do., solid leather portmanteau, solid leather hat case, one pair Balmoral boots, one pair shoes, three neckties, Binds, handkerchiefs, gloves, braces. ARTHUR ORTON. "On . one occasion Lord Rivers, Mr. G. Onslow, and myself went down to the prison and . took with us a photograph of Arthur Orton, ai.ias Creswell, alias Smith, who has been confined as a lunatic at Parramatta Asylum, Sydney, New South Wales, since 1871, and in the presence of the chief warder asked Tichborne, 'Who's this What? is that man alive?' ' Yes.' ' Then you've got Arthur Orton, or may I rot in prison all my years.' We have affidavits as to Orton's identity from his wife, and his brothers, Charles and Edmund. But 1 won't say more at present., We have been at work for the last ten years, collecting and sifting, and the little house in the wilds of Hampshire is full of papers, and letters by the thousand, upon which the Claimant will set to work at once. And ' Castro is willing.' " So says Mr. East very emphatically, and in proof of what he Bays he has had photographed five entries from the . diary of John Meiklejohn, the famous Scotland-yard detective, who was employed in getting particulars of the jurymen for the Tichborne trial. The dates are Friday, April 4, April 5, April 6, April 7, and April 8, of 1873. These and his covering letter are to form an important link in the chain—no, a regular cable—of evidence which Mr. East and his friends have been busy forging for the last ten years. " TICUBOKKIANA."

Mr. East has many a reminiscence to tell of his friend in tlie halcyon days of his prosperity. " I remember well a ruse de guerre which was played upon him during the trial by Lord Rivers. That gentleman desired the pleasure of his company at dinner at half-past seven one evening, and several noblemen were, to be there, for manners make the manor rather the aristocrat. At half-past seven Sir Roger drove up in his brougham, and, on the door being opened, was informed by the footman that he was half an hour late, Beven o'clock being the hour for which he was invited. 4 Ah then please convey my apologies to Lord Rivers. I will go back.' 'No, sir. Dinner haa not been served. They are all waiting for you.' So Sir Roger gallantly entered the drawing-room, apologised most handsomely to his host, made a superb bow to the ladies, learned that he had kept his hour after all, and came through the fiery ordeal with aplomb—and the ladies were so much impressed by his courtly manner and graceful address that they declared after dinner that he was the most aristocratic man in the room. Mr. Labouchere once asked him to dinner, but he discovered that this was one of Mr. Labouohere's little jokes, for a score of lawyers had been asked to meet him. Sir Rncer sent an excuse. He objected to unofficial crossexaminations, especially after dinner. Yes, he was more than a two-bottle man. 1 remember one evening Lord Rivers, Mr. Guildford Onslow, the Claimant, and others dined at the Waterloo Hotel, in Jermynstreet." A good deal of wine was drunk at dinner, and afterwards Sir Roger drank six Btiff glasses of brandy and water. And they charge you eighteen pence there for a glass, for the brandy is the best, and the measure is liberal. 'Don't drink any more brandy

and water, Tichborne, there's a good fellow,' said one of us. 'On my word I won't,' said the Claimant, pulling the bell at the same time. 'Waiter, a bottle of brandy.' The brandy came, and he proceeded to drink it neat. ' I said no more brandy—and water !' He went to bed as sober as I am now, and was none the worse for the next day's work." AND THE TICHBORNE BONUS. "And the Tichborne bonds," I said, as I bade Mr. East good-bye; "you're a big holder, I suppose ?" "Good 1 never even saw .one." And with these words ringing in my ears I passed out into the darkness, walked down to the station, took a corner seat in a dimly-lighted carriage, and slept peacefully for four hours, waking up at Victoria — dreaming that Sir Roger had married , Mrs. Weldon, and they both were the guests of Dr. Winslow.