I was obliged, in justice to his friends, to search his clothes in presence of a witness.

We found his handkerchief, his purse, and his cigar-case, and nothing more.

No letters or visiting cards; nothing marked on his clothes but initials.

There was no help for it but to wait to identify him until he could speak.
When that time came, he acknowledged to me that he had divested himself purposely of any clew to his identity, in the fear (if some mischance happened to him) of the news of it reaching his father and mother abruptly, by means of the newspapers.

He had sent a letter to his bankers in London, to be forwarded to his parents, if the bankers neither saw him nor heard from him in a month's time.