"Because I thought it the only way to get you. But, if you will," (bending down) "it shall be to Annapolis and St. Anne's Rector, ere we come back again." She looked up at him with merry eyes--a charming picture in the moonlight. "Let us first go to the Bay," she said; "perhaps, we shall not care to go farther." And Martha Stirling, from the rose-walk, saw them go. And surprise grew slowly to amazement, and then--as the minutes fled, and they returned not--the surprise changed into anger, sharp and sudden. And she left the rose-walk, and hastened to the Governor. She found him in his apartment, in converse with Richard Maynadier. Both men arose, when she entered, and the latter made a move to retire. She stopped him. "Just a moment, Mr. Maynadier," she said--"I want only to give this letter to Colonel Sharpe. It contains some information which it seems well he should have at once.--It is from Lady Catherwood, sir," she added; "it came this evening, and, though only a woman's letter, this part," (indicating) "will prove very interesting reading." She handed the letter to him, shot Maynadier a bewitching smile, dropped them both a curtsy, and was gone. "Your pardon, a moment!" said the Governor.... At the end, he passed the letter across to Maynadier, and his face was troubled. "Miss Stirling was right," he said. "But it is more than interesting--unfortunate, I should term it." Maynadier read it carefully before answering--then, he put it slowly down. "What course will you pursue?" he asked. "The evidence is all but conclusive, now." The Governor sent cloud after cloud of smoke ceiling-ward. "I shall demand an explanation," he replied; "lay down the proofs, and give him a chance to disprove; and do it quietly--there is no need to proclaim my error." "You are not at fault--the letters were authentic," said Maynadier. "Possibly not--but I shall bear the blame, nevertheless, of having made the imposition possible. I do not like it! Maynadier, I do not like it! If I thought he would depart with Brandon, I would----" he broke off and shook his head in indecision. "He has done no one, so far as we know, an injury--other than to enter their houses under a false name. He has, even then, compensated for his entertainment by his genialness and his courtesy. It will raise a nasty scandal, and accomplish no real good. If there were any crime, for which he was responsible, it would be quite different. I grant you, he played cards for a high stake, and usually with success, but no one accuses him of cheating--and there were those who were willing to play." "And, in addition, you like him!" laughed Maynadier. "Yes, I like him--I reckon that does influence my judgment." "But the fact remains, that he is _not_ Sir Edward Parkington. How will you answer, if it ever become known--even after he has departed? 'I knew it,' or, 'I did not know'?" "I knew it." "Then, how explain your failure to unmask him?"