"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.
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.