him, it is
likely to be the happiest day of my life. I never paid a hundred pounds
away more willingly. May I keep this photograph?"

"Keep it, sir, by all means," said the man. "You're mighty welcome to
it. Lord, it's the first time in my life I've ever given a present to a
Prince or been worth a 'undred quid."

"I think we had better leave him now," said the doctor. "The excitement
can only have a prejudicial effect upon his condition."

I accordingly rose to say farewell to the man.

"Good-bye, your Royal 'Ighness," he said, as I touched his hand, "and
good luck to ye. When yer find your brother yer might tell him that it
was old Tom Gulliver, of Shadwell, as laid yer on the scent of 'im."

I promised him that I would, though I did not fancy Max would appreciate
the circumstance as much as he appeared to do.

Then, having wished him good-bye, I thanked the nurse, and left the
ward, the doctor accompanying me as far as the main entrance. There I
thanked him for his kindness, and for the trouble he had taken.

I must leave you to imagine how eager I was to reach home.

CHAPTER XII.

Late as it was when I reached Rendlehurst, I found my father, mother,
and Ottilie sitting up for me, consumed with anxiety, as you may
suppose, to hear the news I had brought. When I entered the drawing-room
there was complete silence, that spoke for the strain upon their nerves.
Each seemed for the moment to be too anxious to venture a question. They
had hoped so many times for news, and on each occasion had been so
grievously disappointed, that they scarcely dared to place too much
reliance in any fresh clue. I crossed the room and took my mother's
hand.

"Mother," I said, "thank God I have good news for you at last!"

She uttered a little hysterical sob, and sank back into her chair, pale
to the lips.

"Tell us what you have discovered, Paul," said my father, and even his
voice trembled as he said it.

Thereupon I sat down and gave them a complete summary of all that had
happened that afternoon. In conclusion I produced the photograph the
dying man had given me, and handed it to my mother for her inspection.

"Yes, it is undoubtedly he," she began at last, when she had been gazing
at it with tearful eyes for upwards of a minute. "It is my poor Max! God
be thanked for His mercy!"

My father next examined it, after which he handed it to Ottilie, whose
opinion coincided with ours. Indeed there could be no possible