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“Tichbooooorne,” the Claimant rumbled, gri
Kenealy reappeared beside him. “You have all heard our enemies’protestations!” he cried. “You all know that they refuse to believethat this man is Sir Roger Tichborne.”
“It's a conspiracy!” someone shouted.
“Precisely!” Kenealy agreed. “Precisely! I have here a formerCarabineer who served at my client's side; slept in the samebarracks; spent day after day in his company! Spare a moment, ifyou will, for Mr. James M'Ca
He removed himself from the podium again and was replaced by aburly individual, who, in a melodramatic tone, a
Loud guffaws all around.
“-is undoubtedly Roger Tichborne, or ‘Frenchy,’ as we used tocall him. I recognised him the instant I saw him by his forehead,head, and ears.”
More laughter, cheers, and jeers.
“His ears I knew well by seeing him in bed every morning for twoyears.”
“Stuck out from under the blankets, did they?” came a distantvoice.
Burton stood on tiptoe and looked back. The crowd had more thantrebled in size since he and his friends had arrived.
“There is nothing extraordinarily particular about the ears thatI know of,” M'Ca
A fresh outburst of raucous laughter rippled through the crowd.Cloth caps were thrown into the air.
Steam billowed over the gathering, rolling from east to west.The platform was momentarily obscured, and when Burton saw itclearly again, M'Ca
“Sir Roger Tichborne will now address you directly,” heproclaimed.
This was greeted by more cheering, which quickly gave way to anexpectant silence.
The Claimant gri
Burton looked down at Fidget in surprise. The hound was growlingferociously and all along his spine the hair was standing on end.The king's agent looked up and around. For the most part, thegathering seemed transfixed by the Claimant. Off to his left,though, it appeared that an argument was developing between a smallgroup of gentlemen and the workers surrounding them. There werealso-
Burton blinked and peered into the steam. Bismillah!
There were things moving in the ever-shifting white vapour!
“Look!” he hissed at his friends.
Unfortunately, Swinburne, Trounce, and Honesty were too short tosee over the heads of the men surrounding them, so only Burton wasaware that vague, wispy, and transparent figures were materialisingamong the crowd, dispersing then re-forming, glimpsed theninstantly doubted. He could only see them from the corners of hiseyes; the moment he directed his gaze full upon them, they seemedto melt away.
He rubbed a hand across his face, squeezed his eyes shut, andopened them again.
A sudden cry of pain came from one of the gentlemen off to theleft.
“What was that? What's happening?” Trounce demanded.
“I insist-upon,” the Claimant declared, “fair play for-for everymaaan!”
“A fight has broken out,” Burton answered. He started toshoulder his way toward the scuffle, with Fidget at his heels andSwinburne and the two police detectives following behind.
“I look-to the-the working classes!” the fat orator bellowed,his voice thick and slurred. “That noble part of the-the-theBritish public!”
The crowd loosed a deafening roar of approval.
Burton saw a top hat knocked from a head.
“Watch where you're bleedin’ well goin’, you stupid git!” a manspat as the king's agent pushed past.
“Them lawyers call me such baaad names, yesss,” the Claimantrumbled.
Burton nearly tripped over a body that lay sprawled on thegrass. He looked down and saw a well-dressed youth whose nose hadbeen badly bloodied. A brutish-looking older man, dressed in canvastrousers and a grimy cotton shirt, was in the act of swinging hisbooted foot into the prone youngster's side.
Burton pushed the assailant away.
“Get off him, man!”
“Oy! What's it to do wiv you?” came the aggressive response.
“Yeah, tell ‘im to keep ‘is toffee-nose out of it, Jeb!” anotherof the crowd added.
Swinburne bent to help the young gentleman to his feet buthiccupped, lost his balance, and pitched over on top of him.
“Oops!” he said.
The man pushed him aside, cast him a doubtful look, retrievedhis dented top hat, scrambled to his feet, and backed away.
Trounce and Honesty positioned themselves at either side of theking's agent.
The man named Jeb stepped close to Burton until their noses werejust inches apart and tried to stare him down.
“Are you an’ your pals go
“My pals are from Scotland Yard,” Burton replied quietly, hissullen and intense gaze holding firm.
Jeb looked from Burton to Trounce to Honesty then back atBurton.
“Need the ladies’ protection, do yer? Can't take care o’yerself, I suppose?”
“Ow!” Swinburne yelled.
Jeb looked down and saw a small basset hound with its teethembedded in the little red-haired man's ankle. He looked up and sawBurton's knuckles. The punch caught him square between the eyes andhe stumbled backward, with blood spraying from his nose, into oneof his cohorts.
Trounce and Honesty swooped and grabbed him by the arms. Hestruggled, shouting incoherently.
Burton saw madness in the man's eyes and shuddered. Faces in thecrowd were turned toward the commotion. There were mutterings andcurses. He snapped his head around as something seemed to flit pastto his right. He had an impression of a ghostly figure but saw onlysteam, coiling and curling.
“Get out of here!” a voice hissed. “Scarper while you can,Boss!”
He turned and was surprised to find Herbert Spencer, with a flatcap pulled low over his forehead, standing at his side.
The young gent with the bloodied nose muttered, “Thank you,” andpushed past the onlookers to join his friends, three well-dressedyoung men who were standing nervously nearby. They moved away, withcatcalls and hoots of derision following them.
“Be quiet!” Detective Inspector Trounce shouted angrily.
“Make us!” came a challenge.
Honesty twisted Jeb's arm up behind his back, holding it lockedthere with one hand. With the other, he pulled a truncheon from hisbelt. Trounce noticed the move and followed suit.
“It's the pri-privileged what decides the-the fate of honestfolk!” came the Claimant's voice. “And I have no doubt-that-lawyerscan do a great many things, yesss. They freq-freq-frequently makeblack appear-appear white. But I'm sorry to say, they morefreq-frequently make white app-appear black!”
Burton frowned. Everything the Claimant said sounded rehearsed.They were plainly not his own words.
“There's trouble a-brewing!” Spencer whispered. “Can you see thewraiths? They're the same as what I saw down by the lake atTichborne House. I reckons it's them what's turnin’ the crowdugly!”
“I think you're right,” Burton replied, looking around at a seaof angry faces.
Trounce and Honesty began to force their way through the throng,dragging their prisoner after them. They were cursed and insultedas they pushed past men whose faces were contorting with fury andcontempt.
“Why, hallo, Herbert!” Swinburne said, noticing the vagrantphilosopher for the first time. “Exciting, isn't it? Are youresisting the influence? I am!”
“Algy!” said Burton. “What are you prattling about?”