"'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.