The man's eyes opened, and his mouth followed suit. In a moment his manner had entirely changed.
"I beg your Royal Highness' pardon," he said apologetically, and then, with delightful ingenuousness, added, "I didn't know it was you. If your Royal Highness will be kind enough to step this way to the secretary's office, I will go in search of Dr. Whittadge at once."
I accordingly followed him down the stone corridor to a comfortably furnished apartment, where I waited while he went off on his errand. By this time I was as nervous as any schoolgirl. So much depended upon the next half-hour, that I could scarcely contain my impatience or my anxiety. I paced up and down the little room, examined the photos of various benefactors that decorated the walls, and then rejoiced, as my ears caught the sound of a business-like step on the stones outside. A moment later the door opened, and a tall, gentlemanly man, who I rightly guessed was none other than Doctor Whittadge, entered the room.
"Have I the honour of addressing Prince Paul of Pannonia?" he inquired, closing the door behind him.
"That is my name," I answered. "I received a letter from you this morning, informing me that a patient named Gulliver under your charge, declares that he knows the whereabouts of my brother."
"That is so," the doctor replied. "The man states that he has not only seen your brother, but has spoken to him. He will not, however, reveal the name of the place, or say anything more concerning it, to anyone save yourself. If you would care to see him, I will conduct you to the ward. I must ask, however, that you will make the interview as short as possible, for the man is in a highly dangerous condition.
"He is a sailor, and was badly injured two days ago by a fall from the rigging of a ship. If your Highness is ready, shall we proceed upstairs?"
"By all means," I answered.
Then without delay he led me upstairs to one of the principal wards.
"Gulliver is in here," he said in a whisper. Beckoning one of the nurses to him, he said something to her in a low voice, after which, inviting me to follow him, he led the way towards a bed at the further end of the room. A screen had been placed before it, and, when we approached, a nurse was feeding the sick man from an invalid cup. He proved to be a rough-looking fellow, between thirty and forty years of age.