' said the accused quietly, 'I have never, to
my knowledge, seen this man Kershaw, and I can swear that I never wrote
to him.'

"'Never wrote to him?' retorted his Honour warningly. 'That is a strange
assertion to make when I have two of your letters to him in my hands at
the present moment.'

"'I never wrote those letters, your Honour,' persisted the accused
quietly, 'they are not in my handwriting.'

"'Which we can easily prove,' came in Sir Arthur Inglewood's drawly
tones, as he handed up a packet to his Honour; 'here are a number of
letters written by my client since he has landed in this country, and
some of which were written under my very eyes.'

"As Sir Arthur Inglewood had said, this could be easily proved, and the
prisoner, at his Honour's request, scribbled a few lines, together with
his signature, several times upon a sheet of note-paper. It was easy to
read upon the magistrate's astounded countenance, that there was not the
slightest similarity in the two handwritings.

"A fresh mystery had cropped up. Who, then, had made the assignation
with William Kershaw at Fenchurch Street railway station? The prisoner
gave a fairly satisfactory account of the employment of his time since
his landing in England.

"'I came over on the _Tsarskoe Selo_,' he said, 'a yacht belonging to a
friend of mine. When we arrived at the mouth of the Thames there was
such a dense fog that it was twenty-four hours before it was thought
safe for me to land. My friend, who is a Russian, would not land at all;
he was regularly frightened at this land of fogs. He was going on to
Madeira immediately.

"'I actually landed on Tuesday, the 10th, and took a train at once for
town. I did see to my luggage and a cab, as the porter and driver told
your Honour; then I tried to find my way to a refreshment-room, where I
could get a glass of wine. I drifted into the waiting-room, and there I
was accosted by a shabbily dressed individual, who began telling me a
piteous tale. Who he was I do not know. He _said_ he was an old soldier
who had served his country faithfully, and then been left to starve. He
begged of me to accompany him to his lodgings, where I could see his
wife and starving children, and verify the truth and piteousness of his
tale.

"'Well, your Honour,' added the prisoner with noble frankness, 'it was
my first day in the old country. I had come back after thirty years with
my pockets full of gold, and this was the first sad t