Note: TV script . Not original format – alignment of speech etc (altered when copied onto the site).
The Tichborne Claimant
Fanny Du Pre
01 INT. WAGGA WAGGA HOTEL, 1865 – NIGHT
TITLES: WAGGA WAGGA, AUSTRALIA, 1865
The sound of merry-making; of laughter, chinking glasses and drinks being poured. A piano is playing in the background. The bar is wooden; Victorian in design. A wide staircase leads to balconies on the first floor. We focus on three tumblers being filled with whisky, which are handed to a man sat between two well-dressed, made-up ladies of a mature age and figure. They are both giggling and seem to be vying for the attention of the man, who is well built, of African origin and dressed in fashionable attire. Despite his ethnic appearance, he is incredibly well-spoken with an aristocratic English accent.
Ladies! Another drink!
(Tittering and sassy)
Why, Mr Bogle, Fanny and I may start to question your intentions.
I can assure you, Mrs Pendergast, my
intentions are entirely honourable.
It is not every day one gets to meet two
ladies of such…
He glances at her rather fulsome bosom as she squeezes closer into him.
He is the first to neck his drink and the ladies follow suit.
MRS DU PRE
Goodness, I feel a little queer, Hetty.
My dear Mrs Du Pre, shall I order
you another drink?
MRS DU PRE
(looking rather dizzy)
Yes, yes, no, no. I mean, of course,
Mr Bogle, but first, please, continue
with your proposition.
Ah, my proposition.
Yes, Mr Bogle, you were telling
us about an opportunity that we
would be mad to ignore.
And indeed you would be Mrs Pendergast.
He signals three more drinks. The barman looks unimpressed.
As soon as I heard that two ladies
of such standing had arrived from that
blessed isle of my birth, I just knew
I had to act.
Both ladies exchange brief, quizzical glances.
Were you… born in England, Mr Bogle?
Oh yes, Mrs Pendergast, grew up on
The smokey streets of London Town
itself with nothing but a hoop and
a stick to keep me entertained.
My father, a successful merchant, was
rarely home. I was left to care for
my mother, who was always very ill.
MRS DU PRE
MRS DU PRE
Your mother. Was she always very ill?
Oh, yes, yes, she was always very
ill. The whole time.
You poor, poor dear.
Mrs Pendergast, you are so kindly,
You remind me of her so much.
I remind you of your mother?
Sister! You remind me of my sister,
she had the same gentle heart and soft complexion as your sweet self.
He gently kisses her hand.
Oh, Mr Bogle.
MRS DU PRE
What about me?
MRS DU PRE
Who do I remind you of, Mr Bogle?
Er, my other sister, Mrs Du Pre.
They were twins. Anyway, as soon as
I heard you had sailed straight from
England, it just seemed like a sign
from the heavens themselves.
MRS DU PRE
What did, Mr Bogle?
He pauses as the drinks arrive.
Tell me ladies, do you believe
in coincidences? In fate? In divine
intervention? Do you believe in a
righteous God; ever guiding, ever
Both ladies are silent and look mesmerised.
Because I do. And I believe there
is a very good reason why our paths have
crossed, here, today, in Wagga Wagga –
a most vile and uncivilised backwater of
this new nation we find ourselves in.
Both ladies take a sip of their whisky, without averting their gaze from Ebenezer.
Only yesterday my associate and I
received some news.
MRS DU PRE
(looking around, drawing them closer)
Mrs Pendergast, Mrs Du Pre, my associate,
a Mr Tom Castro – widely respected and
travelled businessman – received news of a lucrative expedition far to the north of the country.
What sort of expedition?
For gold, Mrs Pendergast. Gold.
MRS DU PRE
But I thought all the gold was in the
south of the country, Mr Bogle.
Yes, in fact we are on our way to
Victoria. It had been arranged before
the untimely deaths of both our husbands.
MRS DU PRE
Looking for gold, Mr Bogle.
Bogle looks flustered. He pauses to sip his whisky.
Of course you are, that is where everyone
is flocking. In fact Victoria is over-run
with gold-diggers at this present time.
What – criminals?
And the Chinese.
MRS DU PRE
Yes, I am afraid so, Mrs Pendergast.
Victoria is full of them. And that is
what makes this expedition so appealing.
Mr Castro has secured a deal with a
very famous exploring company – you may
have heard of them – Burke and Willis.
Both ladies have blank faces.
Well, anyway, Burke and Willis are known
throughout this vast island as the number
one discoverers of gold. Their latest
venture – far away from the common crowd –
is in the Northern Territories.
MRS PENDERGAST & MRS DU PRE
Not only that, they have found new, fertile
land – grass so green you could
mistake it for the patchwork beauty of
MRS DU PRE
(nestling even closer to Ebenezer)
There is some sort of commotion in one of the rooms off the first floor balcony. All three are distracted momentarily, before continuing their discussion.
Burke and Willis have agreed to
include Mr Castro and any associated
backers into the deal! This could
be worth thousands, ladies! Just imagine
claiming new land in the name of your
late husbands. Land literally filled
Oh, how wonderful!
MRS DU PRE
Though my second husband was Belgian. Will
That matter, Mr Bogle?
Not at all, Mrs Du Pre. But be mindful
not to advertise the fact. Now, Mr Castro
has more than enough capital to fund this venture.
…Had he not got it all tied up with
building the first school, here in
Wagga Wagga. It’s his gift to the
Community. An attempt to educate
MRS DU PRE
Oh, how generous.
For orphans, you see. Yes, Mr Castro
is highly, highly regarded in these parts.
The commotion is starting to get louder. There is muffled shouting as the argument appears to have moved from one of the rooms to the balcony. They look up. Ebenezer battles to regain the ladies’ attention.
(louder and more urgently)
Thing is, ladies, with Mr Castro’s
money tied up, this could be a fantastic
opportunity for a second backer to
fund the expedition.
The disagreement on the first floor has made its way to the top of the stairs where a rather large middle-aged man is standing in his underwear with his trousers round his ankles. He is holding some of his clothes while a young woman and an older man, presumably her father, are shouting obscenities at him.
I see, Mr Bogle.
All we need is £500 – from two willing
parties… there is… there is a bank across
the street. We could… ladies…
The piano stops playing. All attention is now on the argument at the top of the stairs. In fact, the entire hotel appears to be watching the events unfold.
I’m sorry, I hope you can accept that
it was a… mistake…
Mistake?! You’ve got your trousers round
Ebenezer puts his head into his hands.
Now hang on… no need to get excited…
He told me he was a Count, Pa, told me
he would change my life for ever!
Did he now?
Nein! I said I could teach you to count.
You said your name was Count Victor Von
Schmitt and that you owned a castle in Germany!
Von Schmitt?! That’s Tom Castro the local
Angry man looks even angrier.
Tom offers a smile. He is still standing in his underwear.
Mrs Pendergast turns to Ebenezer.
Tom Castro? Isn’t that your associate?
Who? No, no, that’s not him.
The angry man runs across the balcony landing to attack Tom.
MRS DU PRE
Yes, Tom Castro, I’m sure that’s what
the girl called him.
No, no, that’s not Tom Castro…
Don’t be silly…
Ebenezer sighs and closes his eyes, apparently unable to continue watching.
At this stage, the angry man has got Tom in a headlock at the top of the stairs. All we can hear are muffled gasps of “Help me” and “Arrggghh”.
There are two Tom Castros. How queer,
MRS DU PRE
After a lot of grappling and grunting, Tom loses balance and trips over his trousers. Both men fall down the stairs, with the angry man taking the brunt of the knocks. Tom, legs astride and on top, virtually ‘rides’ him over every step until they come to a crashing end at the bottom.
Silence. Both men don’t move for a moment.
What a large man.
Slowly, Tom rises. He struggles to get to his feet, but eventually manages it. He brushes himself down, looks sheepishly around and walks off, with one hand on his trousers which are now half-way pulled up. He passes Ebenezer on his way. He stops and turns round to look at him.
Ladies, it has been a delight. I bid you
They both look aghast.
MRS DU PRE
But what about the expedition?
And the other Tom Castro?
He’s Tom Castro!
MRS DU PRE
She means the other one.
Whispers ripple through the hotel, which builds to heckling and shouting about Tom Castro. The ladies look bemused.
Ebenezer catches up with Tom, pauses, then turns round.
Ladies… and gentleman… this
He points to Tom, and pauses. The hotel quietens.
This man is not Tom Castro!
Tom and Ebenezer exit the hotel and the piano begins to play again.
02 EXT. T.CASTRO BUTCHERS, MORNING
It is a bright morning. We find Tom, unshaven and unkempt, slumped snoring against the counter of the butchers shop, which is also the shop window. The shutters are open, so Tom effectively has his head outside. The building is in fact an old shack comprised of what looks like discarded driftwood. There are signs of some brickwork – notably a rather wide chimney. The entire structure looks a mess. The shop is set on its own in the Australian outback – the landscape is sparse, save for the occasional bush or tree.
Aside from the natural sounds of the outback, there is a constant buzzing of flies as they mingle and dart amongst the many carcasses hanging from the canopy of the shop.
One of the flies lands on Tom’s lips as he sleeps. His mouth is agape, with saliva drooling out.
A horse and cart draw up with a teenage boy (16 or 17) and an old lady. The woman is dressed in typical 1860s clothes – long dress, petticoat etc, and the boy has ragged clothes, knee length trousers which are frayed around the edges etc. He is barefooted.
The boy gets down and slowly approaches the counter.
He stops and turns back to the old lady.
Go on, boy!
The boy reaches Tom and watches him sleeping, apparently unsure what to do. He pauses, then slowly extends his finger and pokes Tom in his cheek rather violently. Tom wakes with a start.
The boys says nothing and waits for Tom to focus and gain his senses.
Wasser… what. What do you want?
The boy doesn’t speak.
You here for some rabbit? No? Sheep?
Got plenty of sheep meat. Oh, dear…
Tom holds his head. His hangover is kicking in. After a few moments he realise the boy is still there.
Yes? Wasser matter, can’t you speak?
Kan roo ron.
Kan roo ron.
Can I what?
Here’s the problem. Had a run in with
a prostitute and her ever-so angry pimp
last night. Mistook my charming banter
for a request for a certain service.
Truth is, I only wanted to use her room
to take a shit… Plus…
(almost falling back to sleep)
…I have no idea what you are saying.
He says the kangaroo meat you sold us
Bloody hell! Where did you come from?!
The whole thing was covered in maggots!
Maggots? No, no, we only sell the finest
meats in this establishment.
Tom extends his arms to present the carcasses hanging on the canopy. They are rancid and infested with flies. Every now and then a maggot flops to the floor.
Well, yeah… these are the off cuts.
The best bits are inside. Getting a
whole new stock today actually, including
our new line… horse.
Pause. Tom notices the old lady’s horse.
We want our money back!
Re, ree won ar mon ba.
Kan roo ron.
(rubbing his eyes)
Yes, yes, we’ve been through that.
Tom stares at the boy.
What’s wrong with him?
Ain’t nothing wrong with Coby-Lee!
May have had a few knocks when he was
a baby, but you know how to look after
Mama, don’t ‘cha, boy?!
The boy stares straight at Tom. His eyelids are half closed and he produces a creepy, rather late smile.
Tom looks at the boy, then the old woman, and shudders.
We want our money! Now you going to
hand it over, or do we need to bring
The boy’s father.
Tom looks slightly sick.
Ebenezer appears from the side of the shop. He is immaculately dressed, with a brief case in one hand and a scroll of paper in the other.
Goodness, a customer.
Ebenezer has lost his English accent and sounds distinctively West African. He spots the horse and shudders.
Kan roo ron.
I beg your pardon?
He says the kangaroo is rotten.
Oh, what a shame.
And we want our money back! Hurry
up about it. Don’t care to spend my time
talking to folk like you.
That’s his mama. Her son is
the boy’s father. Apparently he is
pissed and he wants their
Well, I don’t see a problem in that.
I’ll get the money now.
Ebenezer moves to enter the shop, then stops.
Ah. Just remembered. I banked the
money last night.
Both the old woman and the boy look confused. Tom continues to look ill.
Tell you what… come back tomorrow
morning. Not only will I have the
money ready, I’ll increase it by
twenty percent to cover your troubles.
Thirty. And as an act of good faith you
can go away today with two of these fine rabbits, free of charge.
Everyone looks at the dismal looking meat hanging from the canopy.
They don’t look so good.
Madam, my offer stands. Besides,
everyone knows rabbit tastes better
once properly aired.
A few more dangling maggots drop off.
Coby-Lee! Grab hold of them r‘bits!
The boy takes the rabbits and mounts the cart.
Thirsty?! Coby-Lee! You know Mama’s
all dried up! Wait till we get home,
The boy looks excited as they head off.
We’ll be back tomorrow! There’ll be
trouble if you’re fooling with me!
Once out of earshot, Tom turns to Ebenezer.
Are you mad? We don’t have any money!
We’re bankrupt, remember?
Ebenezer stands there, presumably thinking. There is a wild glint in his eyes.
Right. Get packed.
I was hoping to get money for the train
from Mrs Dumb and Dumber, last night.
Still, looks like Gibbes is going to
front us the money for now.
Ebenezer looks distracted.
Come on! We haven’t got all day! If we
play this right, Tom, this could be our
ticket out of here.
Tom offers a shrug as he looks at Ebenezer blankly.
Ebenezer appears to lose patience and storms into the shop. He grabs Tom by his shoulders.
(trying to control his voice)
Gibbes is a solicitor. Specifically, he
is your solicitor.
Yours, Tom. Except, like I said
last night, you are not Tom.
Your name is now Roger.
I don’t like ‘Roger’.
You are Sir Roger Charles Doughty
Tichborne. Eldest son of the late Sir
James Tichborne, heir to the family’s
ancient estates in Hampshire. And all
I like Sir Roger.
Ebenezer proceeds to unravel the paper scroll in his hand. It is a cut-out from The Daily Advertiser newspaper. The advert details how Lady Tichborne – Sir Roger’s mother – is seeking any news of the whereabouts of her missing son. There is a financial reward for anyone who does so. There is also a large picture of Sir Roger at the top of the advert. He is tall, slim and attractive. He looks nothing like Tom.
Who is he?
Right. Do you think people will notice?
Listen, it’s been years since Sir Roger
was last seen. He would have changed. His
boat was sunk sailing from South America.
He’s dead. But his crazy mother won’t accept it. She is convinced he is still alive.
Do you think she will recognise me now
I’m a different man?
Ebenezer avoids eye contact. Tom stares hard at the picture.
Mind you, he has my nose.
(he straightens Tom’s collar)
…You do not even remotely look like
the man in this picture.
Well, the nose.
In fact, in all the history of mankind,
I cannot think of a single face with less resemblance than your own.
I mean, look at you.
Tom looks down at himself shamefully.
Enormously fat. What are you? Eighteen
Seventeen and a half, actually.
You are short.
Timothy Copperstone was shorter. Exact
same birthdays and everything. Lived on
my street in Wapping. Tiny.
You have freckles, receding hair, you
waddle, have bad breath, even when you
are awake you look half asleep. And your
face is so disagreeable it is beyond words.
That’s why this plan is so perfect!
Who would be mad enough to claim he
were the real Sir Roger Tichborne
looking like you?
Answer: No-one. That’s why this is
going to work.
He gathers the scroll and briefcase and checks his watch.
Come on, Sir Roger, we’ve got a train to
- EXT, AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK – DAY
A steam train is travelling through the countryside.
- INT, TRAIN CARRIAGE – DAY
Tom and Ebenezer are sat opposite each other, either side of a small table in a pokey carriage. The sliding doors are shut. Ebenezer’s briefcase is open. There are notes, papers and newspaper cuttings strewn across the carriage table. Tom is dressed in his best clothes.
I feel sick.
First thing we do when we get to Sydney
is to buy you a proper suit.
Tom looks hurt.
This used to be my Father’s.
Oh, the Chilean one. From Valparaiso.
Tom, he wasn’t really your father.
I share his name don’t I?
Stole. You stole his name, Tom.
Much like his suit, I imagine.
Borrowed. Thomas Castro! A fine name.
Much better than Arthur Orton.
Why did you change it?
Same as always. Money problems.
A plan. A way out…
And here you are.
Here I am.
A different man, but nothing changed.
A pensive moment.
Now, our first problem is going to be
trying to convince Cubitt that you are
the real Sir Roger Tichborne.
Right. Who’s Cubitt?
The man Gibbes has been in contact with
in Sydney. He’s the one who placed the
ad in the paper. Convincing him guarantees
us a passage to Europe. Here is all the information I could find about Sir Roger.
They look at the papers on the table.
Now, aside from the obvious problem
with your looks, there are one or
two other things that we need to crack.
Such as his education.
Well, he can read for starters.
What is he? A machine?
And he can speak fluent French.
Yes, that will help at the beginning
of a conversation.
…And the end. Trouble is, what about the
Good, good, that’s not bad. Bring the
shoulders slightly higher.
Tom shrugs with higher shoulders.
And pout more.
Tom pouts more.
That will do for starters. Now, I’ll
do all the reading and writing, so…
that’s it I think.
That wasn’t too difficult.
The train hoots and Ebenezer glances outside.
Ok, here we are. Oh, I am your
manservant, by the way.
Tom raises his eyebrows.
Don’t get any ideas.
And my driver?
There is blind panic in Ebenezer’s eyes.
Don’t cross that boundary, Tom.
You know how I feel about horses.
What will I call you?
Your name? What will your name be?
Why do I need to change my name?
Well, I’ve got to.
That is the person you are claiming to
be! You could hardly do that calling
yourself Tom, could you!
I’ll call you Andrew.
Ebenezer looks exasperated between glances out of the window as the train begins to slow down.
Ok, fine. I’ll be Andrew. Now come on,
I don’t want us to be late.
They gather their things together and prepare to leave the train.
05 EXT. STREETS OF SYDNEY – DAY
Sights of Sydney, people busying themselves, markets, shops, hotels etc…
06 EXT. MISSING FRIENDS AGENCY – DAY
External view of the Missing Friends Agency building.
07 INT. MISSING FRIENDS AGENCY OFFICE – DAY
Tom is sitting, rather uncomfortably, at a large table in a first floor office. Ebenezer is stood behind him. They have been waiting for some time. The office is quite large. It is excruciatingly hot. All the windows are open. There is another room adjacent that Tom and Ebenezer can see into through a wooden/glassed dividing wall. They can see all sorts of people sitting and lying around. Some are moaning loudly. Tom is dressed in new, tailored clothing and is sweating profusely. A man enters. He has a thick bush of blonde curly hair – wet in patches – that bounces as he walks. His sleeves are rolled up. There are huge sweat marks under his armpits. In fact, he generally just looks wet.
Good Lord, it’s hot.
He slumps into a chair opposite. He looks exhausted and is breathing heavily.
Silence. Ebenezer and Tom exchange glances.
“AND THROW THEM INTO THE FIERY FURNACE,
WHERE THERE WILL BE WEEPING AND GNASHING
Ebenezer nudges Tom to speak.
(trying to sound posh)
Oh, yes, quite.
It makes me sick. These
drifters, vagrants mainly – devil
lovers – nothing but cold-eyed
Tom’s knee starts to quiver nervously. Sweat is simply pouring off him.
Had one in today, answering an ad
for a merchant’s missing seventeen
year old daughter. Miserable looking
wench. At least thirty five. Kept
showing me her knickers.
Pause. Arthur stares into space. He then jumps abruptly to him feet.
“BUT AS FOR THE SEXUALLY IMMORAL, SORCERERS, IDOLATERS, AND ALL LIARS, THEIR PORTION WILL
BE IN THE LAKE THAT BURNS WITH FIRE AND SULPHUR, WHICH IS THE SECOND DEATH”!
Revelations twenty-one eight. People
Simply will do anything for money.
You must be Sir Roger. Arthur Cubitt.
I run the Missing Friends Agency.
He extends a hand to shake.
Um, yes please.
Arthur pours out two glasses of water from a jug on the table and hands one to Tom. He then throws the rest of the jug over his own head. Ebenezer and Tom don’t quite know where to look.
You know, your mother has been worried
for quite some time.
Yes, it has been rather remiss of me
not to keep in touch.
Remiss? She thinks you have been dead
For eleven years!
Heavens, that long? I had no idea.
Time really does fly.
But the Lord delivereth.
Yes he does… Did.
So, you really are him.
Yes I am.
After all these years.
Eleven, long years.
So, what happened?
The day you died.
You were sailing from Rio.
Rio! Yes, that’s right. Goodness, how
that brings back memories.
And The Bella, it… what? Capsized?
The Bella. Yes, yes it did.
All hands lost.
All hands. Well, apart from me!
Pause. Arthur starts stroking his hair repeatedly.
They say the Lord moves in mysterious
ways, Sir Roger.
Indeed he does, Mr Cubitt.
There is an awkward silence.
Your mother is very keen to find you
He stares almost right through Tom.
Are you a religious man, Sir Roger?
I, er, yes, I think I am.
But of course you are. You come from
a strong catholic family.
“Thou shalt not steal”.
Very good, Sir Roger. How about “Honour
thy mother and father”?
Pause. Tom glances nervously to Ebenezer.
Or how about Corinthians?
Arthur then turns to Ebenezer.
Chapter fifteen, verse thirty-three:
“Do not be deceived: bad company ruins
You know your bible well, Mr Cubitt.
Sirs, let me be frank, Lady Tichborne
and I have been corresponding
together for some time now. She is…
incredibly eager to find her dead son.
She is also incredibly eager to pay
someone a ridiculous sum of money to say
they have found him.
Mr Cubitt, let me assure you…
…I don’t know who you really are, and,
in truth, I don’t care. You say you are
the living breathing Sir Roger Tichborne,
yet you bare next to no resemblance of
him – both in appearance and intellect.
However, I have here a letter signed
from Lady Tichborne herself. In it
she expresses her unadulterated
delight at having heard news that her
beloved son is alive and well. She
has also attached my rather ample
payment for services rendered. Oh, and
two tickets to France – where she is
He hands the tickets to Tom and stands up.
Good day, gentlemen.
Arthur rise from his seat and moves towards the door, leaving a dumbfounded Ebenezer and Tom in stunned silence. He opens the door, but turns round before he leaves.
“Then Jesus said to him, “Put your
sword back into its place. For all
who take the sword will perish by the
Arthur nods solemnly.
Be careful what you wish for, gentlemen.
That went well.
There is a foreboding look on Ebenezer’s face.
Come on, let’s go and meet your mother.
08 EXT. PARIS STREETS – DAY
TITLES: FOUR MONTHS LATER
Views of a busy, snowy Paris in January – shops, markets, cafes, horse and carts etc.
09 EXT. HOTEL DE LILLE – DAY
The Hotel de Lille. Doormen, rich-looking guests. Lots of people milling in and out.
10 INT. LADY TICHBORNE’S ROOM, HOTEL DE LILLE – DAY
The room is opulent and large, but dark and cold-looking. Full length curtains are half drawn allowing only a small amount of wintry light in. Everything in the room seems silhouetted. An old lady dressed in a black dress is sat in an upright armchair. Her hair is tied back and her posture is stiff. There is no discernible emotion showing on her face. It is Lady Tichborne. To her right is Father Chatillon – a stern looking man in his latter years. He is bearded and conservatively attired. He is leaning on a stick. They are not talking. There is the sound of shuffling feet and muffled voices from beyond the double-doors. The doors open and four men enter: The first appears to be Lady Tichborne’s butler. Then there is Tom and Ebenezer. Both are immaculately dressed. The fourth man seems more flustered and unorganised with an untidy suit. He is clutching a brief case that won’t close.
Your Lady, Mr John Holmes, solicitor,
(finding it hard to speak)
Very good, Parkes. Come in, come in.
Parkes shows the guests in, then closes the doors leaving him outside. Ebenezer, Tom and Holmes walk silently across the room.
Lady, Lady Tichborne… wonderful to
finally meet you…
As Tom moves closer, Lady Tichborne edges forwards.
Is that… is that really you?
The three men stop six or seven feet from her chair. Lady Tichborne strains her eyes, then slowly rises from her chair.
She ignores him and approached Tom. She stares wildly into his eyes, and face. Then, tentatively, starts to feel his arms and mouth.
He has his father’s face. His ears… they
are his uncle’s.
Er, my client; Sir Roger Doughty
Tears well in Lady Tichborne’s eyes. Her legs begin to wobble.
She flings her arms around him and begins to wail loudly. Her legs give way and Tom struggles to keep them both from falling. Ebenezer and Holmes help Tom move Lady Tichborne back to her chair.
I always knew you would return. I read
all of your letters.
Tom eyes Ebenezer.
And, yes, now I do remember.
Oh, um, good.
When you first wrote about getting
stung by all those nasty hornets when
you were little I… I could not quite
locate the memory. But now you are here,
now I can see you with my own eyes,
somehow… somehow now I remember.
Lady Tichborne, please, how can you
sure this is Roger?
A mother will always know her own
But his… form, his likeness, is not
in keeping with the man I remember.
Remember? And who might you be, Sir?
You say you remember me, yet all you
have seen is a picture in an advert.
Advert? I have known Sir Roger ever since
he was a boy.
Oh, right. I thought the only person
from my past was the mother. Sorry,
got confused. Right. Start again. Name?
Father! Of course. My father.
I am not your father.
Yes you are, Father. I am the real Sir
Roger. Even your wife can see it. Open
My wife? Lady Tichborne is not my wife!
Sir James Tichborne died many years
Sir James! Yes, that’s Father. Damn!
Sorry, got confused when you said
‘father’. So you are…?
I am Father Chatillon.
Yes, yes, got that bit.
I was Sir Roger’s tutor for many years.
Oh, now I remember! Father Chatty-On.
Yes, the beard threw me.
Lady Tichborne, are you really going
to stand for this outrageous imposter?
…He is fat!
He is smaller!
He does not look like Roger, he does not
move like Roger… he does not
even sound like him!
Ebenezer looks uneasy and steps forward, but Holmes beats him to it.
Yes, er, I am sure there will be time for
all the necessary documentation to confirm
my client is the genuine Sir Roger. Please,
er, excuse his wandering memory. It has
been a long time.
All parties look tense except for Lady Tichborne who looks like the happiest woman in the world.
My dear Father Chatillon, thank you for
supporting me today. Mr Holmes, I would
very much appreciate it if you were to
prepare a statement on my behalf for The
Times newspaper in London.
Not another word. Mr Holmes, please
express my delight in welcoming my
son back home. Tell them… tell them
Sir Roger Tichborne is alive!
She embraces Tom. Ebenezer smiles.
11 FX – NEWSPAPERS
Various newspapers running with the news of the lost Sir Roger Tichborne being found after eleven years.
12 INT. TICHBORNE FAMILY HOME, DAY
We see a newspaper with the headline LONG LOST SON RETURNS. We focus on: “Sir Roger will now take the requisite steps to obtain possession of his estates.”
Sat reading the broadsheet is a dashing young man in his mid-twenties. It is Sir Rogers’ nephew, Henry Seymour. He is at a breakfast table beside Chatillon.
I fear he will take everything.
Henry looks pensive. There is a steely determination in his eyes.
The game is afoot.
Get me Henry Hawkins.