“Here is some mistake!” exclaimed the commander of the Coquette, after time had been given for a thorough examination of the room. “Your gentle manner of entrance,” returned the stranger, across whose face there had passed a glow, that might have come equally of anger or of surprise, “has driven the lady from the room. But as you wear the livery of the Queen, I presume you have authority for invading the dwelling of the subject?” “I had believed—nay, there was reason to be certain, that one whom all of proper loyalty execrate, was to be found here;” stammered the still-confused Ludlow. “There can scarce be a deception, for I plainly heard the discourse of my captors,—and yet here is none!” “I thank you for the high consideration you bestow on my presence.” The manner, rather than the words, of the speaker, induced Ludlow to rivet another look on his countenance. There was a mixed expression of doubt, admiration, and possibly of uneasiness, if not of actual jealousy, in the eye, which slowly read all his lineaments, though the former seemed the stronger sensation of the three. “We have never met before!” cried Ludlow, when the organ began to grow dim, with the length and steadiness of its gaze. “The ocean has many paths, and men may journey on them, long, without crossing each other.” “Thou hast served the Queen, though I see thee in this doubtful situation?” “Never. I am not one to bind myself to the servitude of any woman that lives,” returned the free trader, while a mild smile played about his lip “though she wore a thousand diadems! Anne never had an hour of my time, nor a single wish of my heart.” “This is bold language, sir, for the ear of her officer. The arrival of an unknown brigantine, certain incidents which have occurred to myself this night, your presence here, that bale of articles forbidden by the law, create suspicions that must be satisfied. Who are you?” “The flagrant wanderer of the ocean—the outcast of society—the condemned in the opinions of world—the lawless ‘Skimmer of the Seas!’” “This cannot be! The tongues of men speak of the personal deformity of that wanderer, no less than of his bold disregard of the law. You would deceive me.” “If then men err so much in that which is visible and unimportant,” returned the other, proudly, “is there not reason to doubt their accuracy in matters of more weight. I am surely what I seem, if I am not what I say.” “I will not credit so improbable a tale;—give me some proof that what I hear is true.”