A chair was found for Mr. Inskip; he was settled in it quickly. And I was assigned a place to the rear of Sir Johns, quite apart from the secretaire, where I had sat in the past, taking notes of the previous meetings. I thought this odd, and leaned forward to inform Sir John of this circumstance. He in turn put the question to the Lord Chief Justice, who explained that the claimant wished no written record to be kept. At that, both men chuckled, as if a joke had been told. “I daresay,” commented Sir John dryly, and the Lord Chief Justice left him to stand before the assembled group.
“This gentleman, whom you have never met, is known to you all. He has offered to answer our questions regarding his claim upon the Laningham title and holdings, Sir John Fielding and another gentleman, who shall for the moment remain nameless, will do most of the interrogating. It might be best if you held back your own questions until after they have done with him.”
Then did he turn to the claimant. “Have you anything you wish to say before we begin?’’
“Only that with my answers I hope to persuade all present of the justness of my claim.’’ The voice was quiet but confident.
The Lord Chief Justice returned then to his place and seated himself, Sir John, altogether less formal, remained seated — in fact, arranged himself a bit more comfortably upon his chair before he began.
“What is your name, sir?’’ he asked.
“Why, Lawrence Paltrow, naturally,” said he.
“But of course you would say that, would you not? Let me put the question to you differently: What is your full name?”
“Lawrence Mudge Paltrow.”
“Whence came your middle name?”
“It was my mother’s family name. She was especially proud of it in that hers were landed people in Oxfordshire, well known there when the Paltrows were still struggling to build a house with a proper roof on it — or so my mother used to say.”
“Hmmm, interesting,” said Sir John.
But was it, truly? I wondered how this discussion of his maternal forebears pertained to the matter at hand.
“You mention your mother,” said Sir John. “I had occasion to meet her shortly before her death — uh, very shortly. I happen to know that there were a number of questions which troubled her with regard to your disappearance.”
“My disappearance?” the claimant echoed. “I did not disappear.”
“Well, then, your absence.”
He hesitated briefly. “That is another matter,” said he. “Yes, I was absent from England from the fall of 1763 until earlier this year.”
“Could you account for your absence?”
“In what way?”
“Simply put, what did you do all that time? Where were you?”
“I was in the American colonies.”
“Which of them?”
“A good many of them. As to what I did, I wandered a bit from one place to another, working at various enterprises and in the employ of others.”
“Could you be more specific? What enterprises? What others did employ you?”
The claimant let loose a considerable sigh; it seemed to say that it was somewhat painful for him to look back upon that unsettled period in his life. Then he began his recitation:
“I worked for a time — over a year, perhaps not quite two, for a Mr. Custis in Virginia as secretary. It was not work for which I was particularly well suited. I worked in a number of colonies for a number of employers as a surveyor, as some of the great royal land grants were parceled into smaller farms and plantations. I invested in a coach line in Pennsylvania and helped in its operation until it failed. And then, having thus lost a good deal of money, I went back to surveying. In sum, sir, I did what I could do to earn my way. There is work aplenty in the colonies if a man be willing to dirty his hands, but if he be determined to live as a gentleman, he may quickly starve.”
“Did one of those with whom you joined in enterprise go by the name of Eli Bolt?” asked Sir John.
“Yes, but that was very early in my stay in the colonies — my first employment in the colony of Virginia.”
“You were employed and not a partner in the enterprise?”
“We were all, in some sense, employees of the colony.”
“Oh? And how was that?”
“We were employed to explore what lay beyond the Cumberland River — that is, the western limit of the colony.”
“You mean that no one had gone so far before?”
“Nothing of the kind,” said the claimant. “Why, Mr. Bolt himself had been through that country many times. He knew it well. He led the expedition. Yet it had not been properly mapped and surveyed. This was why I had come along — to map and survey.”
“And once this was finished, you were never again in contact with Eli Bolt?”
“Oh, I may have met him by chance once or twice. I recall one occasion five years past, when I was secretary to Mr. Custis. We drank whiskey together and talked of old times — the expedition and the like.”
“What of Elijah Bolton?” Sir John pronounced the name with especial clarity, as if particularly desirous that he not be misunderstood.
“What of him?”
“Let me put it to you direct: Are not Eli Bolt and Elijah Bolton one and the same?”
With that, the claimant laughed in a most convincing manner; he seemed genuinely amused at Sir Johns suggestion. “By no means,” said he. “There is a certain similarity of the names, I grant, but they are two quite separate and different people.”
“How, then, did you meet Elijah Bolton? “
“On shipboard. He was returning to England but had no employment awaiting him. He agreed to help me in my quest.”
“Your quest?”
“For statements, affidavits, et cetera.”
“Ah, yes, your proofs of identity. Why did you deem it necessary to collect them?”
“I was advised to assemble them by the family solicitor in Laningham.”
“Why did he think it necessary, or even advisable?”
“Perhaps he would be the best one to answer that, but my understanding of it was that there were two reasons principally. First of all, my appearance had altered somewhat during my years in the North American colonies. I have become much stouter and stronger and even grown two inches since last I was in England. Such a phenomenon is unusual, I know, but I was, after all, barely twenty years of age when I sailed for North America. I can only suppose that the rigorous life that I led there played some part in this.”
Sir John nodded and was respectfully silent for a brief time. “I am happy to hear of the improvement in your health,” said Sir John. “ But to bring you back to the matter at hand, I believe you said that there were two reasons for which you were advised to collect affidavits. So far we have heard of only one. “
“What? Oh, yes, of course, the second reason. Mr. Bumbiy, our solicitor, advised me that it would be in my interest to put together as many supporting proofs as possible because there would be those who would oppose my claim. He seemed quite certain that it would be so, and I must say that the existence of this commission demonstrates the sagacity of his opinion.”
Quite unexpectedly and perhaps a bit inappropriately, Mr. Trezavant burst out laughing at that. “It does, rather, does it not?” he blurted out. But the scolding looks he then received silenced him quickly, Sir John had no choice but to bide his time through this interruption. At last, however, things did quieten down once again, and Sir John leaned forward to deliver his next question.
“Sir, each of these proofs you collected — with, by the bye, the help of your friend Mr. Bolton — each of them constitutes a separate recognition, and as such is quite important. But all are not equally significant. Most important to your cause was the affidavit given you by Margaret Paltrow, your putative mother. Am I correct in this?”
“Oh, most certainly.”
“She not only signed an affidavit in your favor, but also let it be known to all who would listen that she indeed had regained her long-lost son. Tell me, sir, how did it happen that she regarded you as her long-lost son?”