"If you've got anything to tell me about my father, go right ahead.
You'll be the only man I've ever met who has said a word about him. Who
the deuce was he, anyway?"

Mr. Crump's face cleared.

"I understand. I had not expected this. You have been kept in
ignorance. Your father, Mr. Maude, was the late Prince Charles of
Mervo."

It was not easy to astonish John, but this announcement did so. He
dropped his cigar in a shower of gray ash on to his trousers, and
retrieved it almost mechanically, his wide-open eyes fixed on the
other's face.

"What!" he cried.

Mr. Crump nodded gravely.

"You are Prince John of Mervo, and I am here--" he got into his stride
as he reached the familiar phrase--"to inform Your Highness that the
Republic has been dissolved, and that your subjects offer you the
throne of your ancestors."

A horrid doubt seized John.

"You're stringing me. One of those Indians at the _News_, Rupert
Smith, or someone, has put you up to this."

Mr. Crump appeared wounded.