4 March 1889
The origin of the letters
(From our private correspondent in London)
London 3 (11.10 night)
It is said that a celebrated Fenian who now resides in Paris is apt to indicate the source from which Pigott obtained the first bundle of fake letters sold to The Times. -C.
PIGOTT IN PARIS
Le Matin published some details about Pigott's stay in the capital of the neighboring republic.
Pigott left London on Monday evening on the express train, which departed from Charing-Cross at 8:05 and arrived at the station of Saint-Lazare, Paris, on Tuesday at six o'clock in the morning.
At a quarter to seven, a traveler, who later became known as Pigott, disembarked at the Ambus Mundos [Deux Mondes] hotel, located on Avenida de la Opera, no. 22, and asked for a room for a few hours, the time needed to wash, dress and write some letters.
Since the man had stated that he would not be spending the night, M. Voos, the hotel manager, did not feel it necessary to register the newcomer in the guest check-in.
Pigott lodged in room no. 21, located on the first floor.
The traveler was a man of about fifty-five to sixty years old, regular stature, broad shoulders, quite corpulent, and with a full white beard.
On top of his black suit he wore a sort of dark ulster, and covered his head with a dark brown beaver hat. He wore glasses.
His only luggage consisted of a leather suitcase with gold metal lock.
At nine o'clock, Pigott came down from his room to the manager's office, carrying several sheets of paper.
He asked M. Voos for another sheet of the hotel's letterhead and an envelope.
Standing and leaning on the balustrade of the office, he quickly wrote some lines on the provided letterhead, and placed it on the other written pages.
The set of paper was too bulky to fit into the rectangular envelope; so, Pigott begged the hotel manager to give him another envelope.
The traveler immediately requested M. Voos to weigh the letter and tell him how much the postage would cost.
The letter weighed 55 grams.
After putting it in the inner pocket of his pardesus, Pigott asked to be shown the dining room, and had lunch there.
He paid his bill and left quietly, carrying his suitcase.
It was then eleven o'clock.
Since then he has not been seen again, says Le Matin, and it is not known whether he is hiding in Paris or if he has immediately taken another train to go to a distant and unknown place, wishing to put as much distance as possible between himself and the English detectives, who at this hour must be on his trail.
there,s nothing new, only the unexplored