I was quite delighted with my success, and had agreed to meet them the next evening; but when I was at breakfast, with my legs crossed, reading the _Morning Post_, who should come to see me but my guardian uncle.

He knew his nephew's features too well to be deceived; and my not recognising him proved at once that I was an impostor.

You must allow me to hasten over the scene which took place--the wrath of the uncle, the confusion in the hotel, the abuse of the waiters, the police officer, and being dragged into a hackney coach to Bow-street.

There I was examined and confessed all.

The uncle was so glad to find that his nephew was really dead, that he felt no resentment towards me; and as, after all, I had only assumed a name, but had cheated nobody, except the landlord at Portsmouth, I was sent on board the tender off the Tower, to be drafted into a man-of-war.
As for my L300, my clothes, &c., I never heard any more of them; they were seized, I presume, by the landlord of the hotel for my bill, and very handsomely he must have paid himself.