ndence, when I came upon a
letter, the handwriting of which was quite unknown to me. Before reading
it, I glanced at the signature, but "James Whittadge," or the fact that
he was the house surgeon at the famous Samaritan Hospital, told me
nothing. I accordingly turned the page and began to read the letter.
This is what I found:

"THE SAMARITAN HOSPITAL, LONDON,

"_24th December_, 18----

"TO H.R.H. PRINCE PAUL OF PANNONIA.

"Sir,--

"The fact that I have been requested by a patient named Thomas
Gulliver, now an inmate of this hospital, to communicate with you
with as little delay as possible, must serve as my excuse for my
presumption in addressing you direct. In common with all the world,
I have heard of your Royal Highness' attempt to discover the
whereabouts of your brother, the Crown Prince of Pannonia. I am not
aware, however, whether you have since learnt his address; if not,
it may be of service to you to know that the man Gulliver, to whom
I referred just now, declares that he is in a position to give you
important information upon that point. He is extremely reticent
upon the subject, and avers that he will say nothing about it to
anyone, until he has seen you. Should you deem his story worthy of
your consideration, I would take the liberty of suggesting an
immediate interview, as I fear the man, who is in an extremely
dangerous condition, is scarcely likely to be alive for any length
of time.

"I have the honour to be,

"Your Royal Highness' obedient servant,

"JAMES WHITTADGE,

"House Surgeon, Samaritan Hospital."

When I had finished the letter, I read it aloud to the others. Then
there was a silence, which lasted while a man might have counted twenty.
My mother was the first to speak.

"Can it be true, Paul, do you think? or is it only another attempt to
extort money from us?" she asked, in a choking voice.

"It is impossible to answer that question until we have seen the man
himself," I replied. "As far as the writer of the letter is concerned,
it seems genuine enough. What do you think I had better do?"

"Would it not be advisable for you to go up to town and see the man at
once?" said Ottilie, who, noticing that my mother was trembling, had
crossed the room and taken her hand.

"Go to London at once, and see this Gulliver, Paul," said my father. "It
is just possible h