In the early part of the year 1825 he began to let fall mysterious hints that it was altogether a mistake to suppose that he had been born in a humble station; that, on the contrary, he was really the son of a royal personage, the Duke of B., who, having lost one son by poison, had secretly entrusted this second son to Colonel von Reseller,--a special favourite,--who was to pass for his father and bring him up, preserving the most inviolable secrecy. Incredible as it may appear, the Stromwalters were gulled by this manifestly fraudulent story. They had known the young Thalreuter from his youth, had seen and possessed the certificate of his birth, and were fully aware of all the circumstances attending it. Yet they were easily imposed upon and dazzled by the grandeur of this tremendous fiction, backed up by the production of letters from the grand-duke, which in themselves were plain evidence of the fraud. Possibly Thalreuter had inherited his indifferent calligraphy from his illustrious parent, for the twenty letters purporting to come from his royal highness were illegible scrawls, poor in composition and wretched in style; but this very circumstance supplied the impostor with an excuse for retaining them and reading them aloud. They were couched in terms of deep gratitude for the foster-parents’ care, and a large return in cash and honour was promised as a reward for their services. The grand-duke did not limit himself to empty promises; he sent through Thalreuter a costly present of six strings of fine pearls of great value, very acceptable to the Stromwalters, who, thanks to the extravagance of their foster-son, the pretended prince, were much pinched for money. The pearls were pledged for a fictitious value, Thalreuter declaring that his grand-ducal father would be greatly offended if he heard they had been submitted to formal examination. The impostor studiously suppressed the fact that he had bought the pearls at two shillings per string at a toy shop with money which he had stolen. He had obtained a pair of sham earrings at the same shop. Any story was good enough to fool the simpleton Stromwalters; he exhibited the miniature one day of an officer in uniform, blazing with orders, as that of the grand-duke, and on another day showed them sketches of the estates that were to be bestowed upon the worthy couple. Again, he pretended that his highness had called in state in a carriage and four to pay a ceremonious visit when they were absent; and another time claimed that the royal chamberlain had invited the baron to share a bottle with him at the Swan Inn, but was called away by urgent business before the baron arrived.