Long Live the King!

"What reason have you for supposing that the individual in question was my brother?" I inquired. "Had you ever seen the Crown Prince?"

"Never, not as I knows on," the man replied. "But if you don't flummux me by asking questions, I'll do my best to tell yer all about it, and yer'll see as I'm not very far out in my reckonin'. Maybe it will be the last yarn I shall spin, so I must make the most of it. How do I know it was the Crown Prince? Well, I'll tell ye. You see, it was this way. Among the passengers there was a gent a-goin' out to Buenos Ayres as took photographs. And precious well 'e did 'em too, when yer come to think on it. Well, after they'd had a bit o' dinner, the day we got into port, the captain, who was mighty friendly with this 'ere Mr. Mortimer, the agent's clerk, suggested that the passenger gent should take their likenesses, them sittin' together on the ladder to the poop. 'It will be somethin' to remember this day by, and also this 'ere werry nice company,' says he, and so the gent he dives down below to his cabin and fetches up his box of tricks. There they sat, as happy as yer please, smokin' of their segars while their photos was a-bein' took. Next morning we sailed for the Argentine, and about three bells the chief sings out for me to lend a hand to rig up the second officer's cabin for a dark room, so that the gent could fix up the photografts all right. The werry next day he 'ad 'em on deck to show the skipper, and everybody was askin' for one, 'cause they was done so natural. 'E was a free 'anded young gent, and one way an' the other I'd done a good deal for him while 'e was aboard. At last he ups alongside 'o me and says, 'Gulliver,' says he, 'I've got one of them picters left; would yer like to have it?' 'Thank yer kindly, sir,' says I, and with that 'e gives it to me."

The man paused, and whispered something to the nurse, who left him and went to the other side of the room. When she returned she handed him an envelope.

"Well, sir, when we got back to Liverpool again I left the Brazilian Monarch and shipped aboard one of the liners for the Cape. One day, on the homeward voyage, I was a-doin' something on the promenade deck – I forget what – while the passengers was below at their lunch. On one of the chairs was a lot of newspapers, and the one a-lyin' on the top had a big picter of a gent in milingtary uniform. 'Bill,' says I, turning to Bill Collings, who was a-coilin' of a rope alongside o' me, 'you're a scholard, what's the readin' under this 'ere picter?' Mind you I recognised it at once. 'The missing Crown Prince of Pannonia,' says Bill, as slick as the doctor there or you might do yourself. 'That's the cove,' said he – beggin' your 'Ighness's pardon – ' 'as cleared out some time back. His family has been a searchin' for 'im 'igh and low, and can't lay their 'ands on him nohow.' 'Have they so?' says I to myself. 'Well, then, when I go home I reckon I can put 'em on his track! For you see I know'd that that photograft was at home if the missis hadn't throwed it away. Well, as soon as we was paid off, I went to the old place and rummaged a bit. There it was sure enough. Next day I took a job on down at the docks, went alof, and bein' a bit shaky, I suppose, after the drink I'd had the night afore, I missed me footin' and tumbled head over heels from the yard-arm to the deck below. And that's wot brought me 'ere. Now you know why I says I could tell where your 'Ighness's brother is."

"Is that the photograph to which you refer?" I inquired, pointing to the envelope he held in his hand.

"Yes, sir," he replied, "and just you see if you can pick out your brother from among the party."

The doctor took the envelope from the man's hand and passed it on to me. The photograph represented five men, all of whom were dressed in white. Three were seated on the ladder leading to the after part of a steamship, the poop, I suppose, while the other two had placed themselves on either side of it. With an eagerness that will be readily understood I scanned the various faces. Then my heart gave a leap, for the man standing on the left of the rails was without a doubt my brother Max. Quite overcome by my emotion, I continued to stare at it until my eyes ached. Then in a voice I scarcely recognised, I asked the man the name of the merchant's agent.

"Mortimer, sir," he replied. "The names of the party are written on the back. The gent had put 'em there afore he gave 'em to me."

I turned the card over, and there saw, corresponding with their respective positions in the photograph, the names of the sitters. The three seated on the steps were Messrs. Thompson, Elford, and Gallagher, respectively. He on the right, wearing the uniform cap, was Captain Ganesford, Commander of the Brazilian Monarch, while the other, the man whose identity I was so anxious to decide, was a Mr. Max Mortimer.

"Thank God!" I said earnestly to myself. "I really believe it is Max." Then turning to the man in the bed, I said, "You have rendered me a service for which I can never be sufficiently grateful. There can be no doubt that the individual you speak of is my brother."

"I am indeed glad to hear it," said the doctor. "I fancied, from the beginning, that there must be something in his tale. Your Christmas Day has not been wasted after all."

"Wasted!" I answered. "If this only leads to our finding 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 doubt about the matter. Anyone who had ever seen Max would have been sure to recognise him in the picture.

It was indeed a happy party that retired to rest that night. At last it looked as if the lost one would be found, and the wandering sheep brought back to the fold.

Early next day, after bidding those at home a fond good-bye, I travelled to Southampton, and by nightfall was on board ship and in mid-Channel. Fortunately, there were no passengers travelling by the boat with whom I was acquainted, or who even knew me by sight. This at least was something to be thankful for. To make assurance doubly sure, however, I had adopted another plan. Feeling certain that, if it became known that Prince Paul of Pannonia were visiting Brazil, telegrams would be dispatched to the newspapers of that country, and thus Max would be given sufficient warning to enable him to get out of my way; I had followed his example, and booked my passage in the name of Mortimer. As plain Mr. Mortimer, therefore, I was known on board.

Of the voyage out nothing need be said. We touched at Lisbon and St. Vincent in due course, and, when that island lay behind us, settled ourselves down to while away the voyage across the Atlantic as pleasantly as we knew how.

At last we reached Rio. It would be impossible for me to describe the varied emotions that filled my breast as we steamed through those wonderful straits into the harbour behind. Save for short excursions to Paris, I had not been out of England since we had taken up our abode in it, and, in consequence, this South American port was like a new world to me. The brightness, the variety of colour, the picturesque placing of the city, and the giant mountain Corcovado, rising behind it, made up a picture that I shall never forget as long as I live. As soon as it was possible for me to do so, I made my way ashore, and, chartering a cab, set off in search of Señor Montezma's office. The cab drivers in Brazil are like their brothers all the world over. They are excellent drivers, but their workmanship is occasionally leavened with a recklessness that is sufficient to bring your heart into your mouth half a dozen times in a hundred yards. It was so in my case. We had not proceeded more than that distance before we as nearly as possible knocked down a pedestrian. Had I only known that that man was Max, what a very different tale I should have to tell! But I did not recognise him, and, in consequence, I drove on to Montezma's office, quite unconscious that I had warned him, and for all the good I could do now I might just as well be back in England. At last I reached the office. In response to my inquiries I was informed that Señor Mortimer was out at the moment, but that doubtless it would not be very long before he would return. While I was making my inquiries Montezma himself emerged from his private office.

"Do I understand that you are inquiring for Señor Mortimer?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as he spoke, and bowing like an automaton. "In that case, if you will honour me by stepping into my office, and taking a seat till he returns, you will place me under an obligation. Señor Mortimer's friends are mine."

With that he bowed once more, and spread his hands apart, presenting such a comical appearance that I could scarcely repress a smile. I accepted his invitation in the spirit in which it was offered, and when I had seated myself, lit the cigar he pressed upon me. Señor Montezma, I discovered, was a small, podgy man, with a round bullet head, and a most happy and humorous cast of countenance. He had evidently settled it in his own mind that I was a new arrival in Rio, and I could also see that, for the same reason, his curiosity was excited as to what my relationship with Mr. Mortimer could be.

"I'm afraid I'm inconveniencing you, Señor," I said, observing that he did not proceed with his work. "Perhaps my brother may be absent for some time. In that case it will be better for me to call later on."

"Your brother?" he cried, springing to his feet and running towards me. "Señor, why did you not say before that you were Señor Mortimer's brother? You overwhelm me! I wish you ten thousand welcomes to our city. No, no, you must not move; I could not let you stir. All I have is at your disposal."

He shook me effusively by the hand, while his face beamed all over.

"Your brother will be pleased beyond measure to see you," he went on, still in the same impulsive fashion. "That he knows nothing of your arrival, I pledge you my honour. It will come upon him as a surprise. He will be overcome with delight. He will be the happiest man in Brazil!"

I was not quite so sure of this. Nevertheless, I wished Max would return, in order that we might get the meeting over. However, time slipped by, and he did not put in an appearance. When our patience was well-nigh exhausted, a clerk was despatched to the office at which it was known that he had intended calling. Ten minutes later the lad returned with the information that Max had visited the office and had left it nearly an hour before. Once more we sat down, and possessed our souls in such patience as we could command. Still the time went by and there was no sign of Max.

"It is really very strange," said Montezma at last. "I cannot understand it at all. As a rule he is punctuality itself. It is just possible he might have gone round to see his friend Brockford, with whom he lives. If, Señor, you will honour me by accompanying me, I will conduct you there."

Needless to say I accepted his offer only too willingly, and we accordingly set off together. At any other time I should have enjoyed the bustle and variety of the streets, but this afternoon I was too nervous, too full of anxiety concerning Max, to have much attention to spare for anything else. When we reached Mr. Brockford's office, we went in, to find the gentleman himself at home.

"No," he said, in answer to our inquiries, "I have not seen him since this morning. Unless he has business to transact with me, he seldom calls here until it is time for us to return to Paquetá. I trust nothing serious is the matter?"

As he asked the question he looked at me with searching eyes.

"This gentleman is Señor Mortimer's brother," Montezma observed with great importance. "He has arrived from England this afternoon."

"His brother?" cried Brockford, with what was plainly an expression of alarm upon his face. "You don't mean to say that you are Prince Paul?"

"I am Prince Paul," I answered. "How do you come to be aware that my brother is the Crown Prince?"

"It is sufficient that I am aware of it," he replied gravely, "I have known it for some time."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," cried Montezma in alarm, "what does this mean? What is this I hear about Crown Princes?"

"It means, Señor Montezma," I answered earnestly, "that your clerk is no less a person than the missing Crown Prince of Pannonia, whose absence has caused such unending sorrow to his family. It is to persuade him to return to his friends that I am now in Rio."

The news seemed to stagger the old man. He could not take it in.

"A Crown Prince! a Crown Prince," he repeated, as if he were trying to convince himself of the truth of my announcement.