Every one was down at the race track, looking at the horses,_The Impostor: A Tale of Old Annapolis

was deserted, save for the servants. Miss Stirling, even, was gone with

the rest--Marbury's coming had delayed the matter, she supposed, and

some regard must be paid to the duties of hostess.

The two men crossed the entrance and knocked at the drawing-room

door, which, contrary to custom, was closed. Instantly, it was swung

open--and the Governor bade them enter.

He was standing with his back to the fire-place, his hands behind him,

his face grave and thoughtful. He returned, with studied courtesy,

their bows of greeting, and motioned for them to be seated. Maynadier,

placid and unmoved, was on one side, Marbury, grim-faced but plainly

ill at ease, on the other.

"Gentlemen," said Colonel Sharpe, "I regret that it is as the Governor

of Maryland, and not as Colonel Sharpe, that I have had to request your

presence here, this morning."

"We took it, from the formal manner of our summons, that your

Excellency wished to confer with us in your official capacity," said

Parkington, easily.

The Governor bowed again.

"Which, being understood," said he, "we can proceed to business....

Sir Edward Parkington, I have received information of such a pertinent

character, that I have no other course than to question your identity.

I do it with the greatest reluctance--you have been a guest in my

house, and in the houses of the prominent men of the Colony--you

presented letters, from Lord Baltimore, which were regular, and which

entitled you to be received. We are informed, now, that you are not

their rightful owner--in other words, that you are an impostor. What,

sir, have you to say in explanation?"

Parkington laughed a little, easy laugh, and brushed a speck of dust

from his coat sleeve.

"I have nothing to say," he replied.--"Your Excellency's information is

correct. I am _not_ Sir Edward Parkington."

The Governor's jaw closed tight, his face grew very stern, and, for a

brief time, he did not answer.

"How did you come into possession of Lord Baltimore's letters?" he

asked, at length. "Did you steal them?"

"No!" said Parkington, "unless taking them from a dead man is

stealing." ... He shrugged his shoulders. "I will tell you the facts,

since you wish to know them."

He drew out his snuff-box--offered it to the others, with a graceful

gesture--took a pinch himself, and told his story.

* * * * * * * * *

"And you say that you did this thing in a fit of foolishness?" the

Governor asked, when he had finished.

"Yes--I did not appreciate how difficult it would be to throw off the

false identity. That is why I was going home: to regain myself."

"Who, in truth, are you?" asked the Governor. (He did not care to

disclose that Miss Stirling had told him.)

"Roger de Lysle, second son of the Earl of Doncaster," was the answer.

Maynadier turned and looked at him, with sudden interest--Marbury's

grim visage relaxed a trifle. There was virtue, in those days, in a

name.

"Have you the means of proving it?" said his Excellency--"any

papers--anything, indeed?"

"My papers were lost when _The Sally_ foundered. But Sir Charles

Brandon can attest me."

The Governor turned, inquiringly, to Brandon, who was sitting somewhat

back, and quite within the shadow.

"I can substantiate his statement that he is Doncaster's son," said

Brandon. "I have known the family, intimately, for years."

As he spoke, Marbury suddenly threw up his head, much as a dog does to

the scent, and his sharp eyes glistened. At the end, he arose, and,

with never a glance at any one, went out.

"The difficulty is," said the Governor, "that this man (who admits he

is an impostor) introduced you. Have you any means of identification?"

"It is a proper question," returned Brandon, promptly.

Arising, he took a bundle of papers from his pocket, and handed them to

the Governor.

The latter examined them, one by one, carefully and slowly. When he had

finished, he passed them on to Maynadier.

"They are regular," he said, "but rather old--the latest is dated more

than four years back."

"I am Sir Charles Brandon, now, just as well as four years ago!" he

laughed. Then, he explained: "It is four years since I left England."

"And you have not, in that time, had letters from home?"

"None."

The Governor nodded, then turned to Maynadier, and the two conversed in

low tones.

Brandon stretched out his legs and frowned--the talk had stirred old

ashes that still smouldered.

De Lysle, untroubled and unconcerned, picked up the Gazette, the

Governor had been reading, and glanced over it.

The first three columns had to do with news, three months old, of the

Court and Parliament. He passed them by. The column which did for

Boston, and New York and Philadelphia, also, went unread. The stick of

Annapolis doings, for the past week, was glanced at, curiously. Then,

down at the bottom of the last column, something in larger type, caught

his eye. He looked, casually, at it, then looked again--then read it,

amazed, and a second time, read it, and the third time.

Just at that moment, Marbury re-entered. Brandon turned his head from

him, but the former stopped, deliberately peered in his face, and

wheeled on the Governor.

"Your Excellency," he said, "it would appear that you have seined for a

small fish, and caught a shark. This man you know, I believe, as Sir

Charles Brandon?"

"He was so introduced," returned the Governor, a little surprise

showing in his voice; "and his papers bear him out--albeit, they are

some four years old."

Marbury laughed, scornfully.

"The papers seem to bear out Parkington, too!" he said. "However, they

may be right enough--he may be Sir Charles Brandon--but--he is, also,

Long-Sword the Pirate."

THE PENALTY OF A BIRTH-MARK

If Marbury had played for effect, he could not have done it better.

For an instant, no one spoke--no one even stirred. Then, the Governor

recovered himself.

"My God! man! do you realize what you have said?" he exclaimed.

"I do," said Marbury; "and I am ready to prove it." He strode to the

window. "Let Jamison and his mate come in!" he shouted.

At the same time, the Governor raised his voice.

"Herford!" he called, "the guard! the guard!--Your pardon, sir,"

addressing Brandon, "but the seriousness of the charge obligates it."

De Lysle had sprung up in indignation; Brandon stayed him with a

gesture.

"I understand," he said, crossing his legs, with unconcern. "It is a

proper precaution. If I were Long-Sword, there might be need for them.

As I am not he, I must ask Mr. Marbury to produce his evidence at

once. It is scarcely fitting, that Sir Charles Brandon rest under an

imputation so serious, an instant longer than is required to disprove

it."

"Let Jamison, and the mate, wait in the outer room until required,"

said Colonel Sharpe, to Herford who, at that moment, appeared at the

head of the guard.--"Now, Mr. Marbury, we are ready to hear your

proofs."

"Your Excellency knows of the attack on Hedgely Hall," Marbury said,

"and the capture of their leader, who, by his own admission to me, was

Long-Sword--also, of his escape, after killing his guard. I had every

chance to observe him, during the long colloquy concerning ransom, and,

afterward, on the ship. The voice, the face, the build, every action of

the man is the same. I identify him, beyond question. And more, I have

had no communication with Jamison and his mate, their ship brought me

here, and I have sent for them--I have not seen them. They have never

seen Sir Charles Brandon. I am willing to submit the case on their

testimony. Let them confront him. If they do not sustain me, I will

withdraw the charge, and apologize, most humbly."

The Governor turned to Herford, who, sword drawn, was standing by the

closed door, and nodded for him to admit Jamison.

The skipper entered, hesitatingly, and halted just within the room.

The soldiers, the Governor's mansion, the unfamiliar surroundings,

the sudden summons, the mystery of it all had produced their natural

result. He was frightened.

"Jamison," said Colonel Sharpe, "will you do us the favor to look at

the gentleman, immediately on your left, and tell us whether you have

ever seen him."

The skipper turned, slowly; at the same instant, Marbury threw back the

hangings from the window, and the morning sun flooded the apartment.

"Good God!" he exclaimed, starting back. "It is Long-Sword! Long-Sword

the Pirate!"

"That will do," said the Governor; "stand aside. Now, summon the mate."

He also entered, slowly, as though doubtful of his reception, his hat

held nervously in his fingers, his eyes shifting rapidly from side to

side, yet appreciating nothing. When the Governor spoke, he jumped as

though he had been struck, instead, and the question had to be repeated

before he understood its tenor. Then he wheeled, suddenly--and came

face to face with Brandon.

Instantly, he let out a yell, and sprang clear to the other side of the

room.

"Long-Sword! Long-Sword!" he cried.

Brandon laughed, lightly.

"Long-Sword must have been the very devil!" he said. Then, he became

grave. "Surely, your Excellency will not view too seriously what must

be a very striking resemblance between this pirate and myself. But,

that you may be relieved of all embarrassment, I am willing to go

to England under guard. There, that I am Sir Charles Brandon can be

instantly attested by any one at Court, his Majesty, himself, included.

If you do this, I will give you, in addition, my parole that I will not

seek to escape."

"Why should you do it?" exclaimed De Lysle, seeing the play, and

seeking to aid it.

"Because it is proper that I should aid his Excellency in his

perplexity," Brandon said. "Three witnesses name me as Long-Sword; it

is absurd, and the quickest way to prove the absurdity is to send me

home for identification. It is the penalty I pay, for being a pirate's

double."

"Will you be satisfied, if I send him to England under guard?" the

Governor asked Marbury.

"No, I am not satisfied," was the answer. "He may, in truth, be Sir

Charles Brandon, but that does not prevent him from being Long-Sword,

too. By his own admission (I heard it, as I stood in the outer room),

he has not been home for four years, and he has had no word from

England in the interim. Why?--Why?--Where has he been these four

years?--what doing? It is just about that period since Long-Sword the

Pirate appeared. Strange coincidence, is it not, when you consider the

resemblance?--and the further fact, that he is discreetly silent as to

his whereabouts during these four years. I was willing to let him go,

when he escaped. I wanted no further bother concerning him. But, when

he actually has the effrontery to invade your Excellency's house, as

a guest, and impose upon the good people of this Province, I say, let

him be punished. No, sir, I am not satisfied to have him sent home, and

then released, if he be identified as Brandon."

The Governor nodded, gravely.

"What have you to say, monsieur, to the proposition, that you could be

both Sir Charles Brandon and Long-Sword?" he asked.

Brandon raised his hands, expressively.

"That may be true," said he. "But an English gentleman, of means, is

not likely to become a pirate."

"Your Excellency," said Jamison, coming a step forward, "might I be

permitted to say something?"

Colonel Sharpe turned to him, with a frown.

"Speak up!" he said, shortly. "What is it?"

"Long-Sword had a collar-bone broken in the fight, when he was

captured--" began Jamison.

"And you mean, that there may be evidence of it?" the Governor

interrupted. "Very good!--Brandon, will you submit to examination?"

"Certainly, sir! I shall be glad to let either you or Mr. Maynadier

inspect my shoulders. Why did you not speak of this sooner, fellow?" he

added.

It was the evidence he had been hoping for--had, indeed, depended on to

establish his innocence. And they had been long in coming to it! The

bones had knit as neatly as before the break.

"And when you are about it," added Jamison, "you might look for a

star-shaped birth-mark, under the left arm. I noticed it, when I bound

up his injury. If it is not there, then he is not Long-Sword."

"Very good! my man, they may look for the birth-mark, too," said

Brandon.

He crossed to the window, where the sun would fall full upon him,

divesting himself of his coat as he went; glanced out at the turf,

below, tossed the coat, carelessly, on a chair, and, putting one hand

on the ledge, suddenly vaulted through the opening.

It was so totally unexpected, that, for an instant, no one moved. Then

Captain Herford, with a shout to his men to follow, bounded across the

room, and leaped out in pursuit.

Brandon had slipped on the grass, when he landed, and Herford alighted

almost in his arms, and a trifle beyond him. Both men recovered

themselves at the same instant, but Herford was between Brandon and

freedom. Like a flash, he drew his sword, and flung himself upon the

aide.

Herford was not an expert, but he had agility, and, that first

requisite of a fencer, a strong wrist, and he held his own, for the

moment that was necessary to enable the guard to come up. Just as they

appeared, he felt the other's sword pass through his shoulder, and he

knew no more.

Brandon whipped out the blade, and sprang forward. Too late! A dozen

soldiers were in the way. He put his back to the house, and waited.

He would die, here--die as Long-Sword--die with the music of the

steel, perhaps the roll of musketry, in his ears. It was better--much

better--than the rope.

A figure leaped down from the window. It was De Lysle.

"Brandon!" he exclaimed. "Let me aid you." The other waved him back.

"You cannot aid me. I am alone on the ship," he said. "Farewell, my

friend.--Ah! place for his Excellency!"

The Governor came hurriedly out, followed by Maynadier and Marbury.

Constable, and the rest of the men of the house party, attracted by the

unusual commotion, were hastening over from the race track, though they

could not yet see what was occurring on the opposite side of the house.

Colonel Sharpe took in the whole scene at a glance:--the solitary

figure against the wall, the dozen soldiers that hemmed him in, the

wounded Herford lying on the grass, the blood blotching breast and

shoulder.

And he swore a great oath, and, kneeling, raised the Captain's head.

"He is not dead!" he said. "Here, Maynadier, look to him, will you?"

Then he arose and faced Brandon.

The latter's sword went up in salute.

"Perhaps your Excellency will favor me with a pass or two?" he said.

The Governor's face was set and stern, for the time, all mercy had

passed out of it.

"For I _am_ Long-Sword," he continued, "even as I _am_ Sir Charles

Brandon. And, ere we grow busy in the business of death, I want to say,

in order that my friend, De Lysle, may not be misunderstood, that,

although he recognized me after he entered the cabin, where I was

prisoner, yet he knew nothing of my coming to Annapolis, until I walked

in upon him at the Coffee-house. I was going home. Long-Sword the

Pirate was to be buried, forever. In ten days, I should have sailed....

But the Fates were against me--I shall not go home--I shall die as

Long-Sword, instead." He bowed gracefully to the Governor. "I thank

your Excellency! Now, cry on your dogs!"

At this instant, Constable came through the house and out on the

esplanade.

"What is it?" he exclaimed--"what does it mean?"

"It is the passing of Long-Sword the Pirate," Brandon answered. "Will

not your Excellency begin?"

"I would much rather you surrendered," said Colonel Sharpe.

"No doubt! it would save you a few lives," he mocked.

"You decline to yield?"

Brandon bowed.

"Then shoot him, sergeant!" was the order.

But before a trigger could be pulled, or a flintlock fall, Brandon was

upon them. His sword flashed in and out, there was a swaying back and

forth, shouts and cries, the clubbing of muskets, the groans of the

wounded, a mêlée, in which all were mingled in a blur of strife and

struggle....

Then, the line parted; and through the opening, his sword at the

lunge, staggered Brandon. Blood gushed from his face and head, from

his breast, from his legs. He was almost sped. He came a little

way--faltered--stopped. A soldier stepped out behind him and passed his

hanger through his throat. He fell without a word. So, Long-Sword died.

The Governor, his wrath passed, looked down at the dead, and shook his

head, sadly.

"He was a brave man!" he said. "May I meet death as fearlessly, when my

time comes.... Gentlemen, this deplorable scene is over--let me suggest

that you hasten to the ladies, and keep them on the other side of the

house, until all traces of the conflict have been removed."

He hooked his arm within Maynadier's, and went slowly in.

"I have had enough of crime and punishment," he said, as they passed

the doorway. "What think you, shall we excuse Parkington--let him

depart in peace, for England?"

"Yes!" replied Maynadier.

"How say you, Marbury?" the Governor asked.

"As I have said all along: let it rest! let him go!"

"There are some things that are not explained, but they can bide--yes,

I think that he may go.--Parkington!" he called.

Parkington, who was kneeling by the body of his dead friend, arose and

came forward.

"Sir Edward!" said the Governor. "We have decided to pursue your matter

no further, upon the condition, however, that you will continue to bear

the name of Parkington, and reside in this house, as a guest, until the

first ship sails for England. Are you content?"

Parkington bowed low. "More than content, your Excellency. I am deeply

grateful. Moreover, there are pressing reasons, now, for my instant

return to England."

He drew the Annapolis paper from his pocket, and, pointing to the item

in larger type at the foot of the last column, passed it across.

Colonel Sharpe read:

"_FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD!_

"_For information sent to the undersigned, that will lead to

the location of the present whereabouts of the Honourable Roger

James Howard de Lysle, who, it is thought, sailed for America,

incognito, about the first of April, last past. He is of average

size, with black hair and eyes, fair complexion, clear cut

features, and fine bearing. By the sudden demise of the persons

intervening, he has succeeded to the title and estates of the Earl

of Doncaster._"

The Governor ceased. "My lord," he said, extending his hand, "you

have my congratulations! But I think, for reasons which you will

understand," he added, "you best cling to the old name, so long as you

are in America."

The Earl bowed. "Your Excellency is right. As Parkington I came to

Annapolis, as Parkington I shall leave it.--Will you wait here one

moment, sir?"

He returned, presently, with Miss Stirling.

"My dear," he said, "I did myself the honor of asking you to marry me,

when I was simply Roger de Lysle; and, though you did not promise, yet

you were good enough to consider it not unfavorably, I thought. Now, in

the presence of his Excellency the Governor, your uncle, I do myself

the further honor of asking you to become the Countess of Doncaster."

Miss Stirling's heart beat wildly.

"The Countess of Doncaster!" she repeated, wonderingly. "You are the

Earl?"

"I am the Earl," he answered. Then he smiled, the winning, fascinating

smile that was his, and held out his arms to her. "Will you go home

with me, dear?" he asked.

Without hesitation, she went to him.

"I will go, my lord," she answered. "I will go."

FINIS.

Every one was down at the race track, looking at the horses, the house