"And this is not he?"
"This is not he.—The true Parkington is quite the reverse of this man. He is short, stout, ruddy, and bald."
"You know this as a fact—of your own knowledge?" demanded the Colonel.
"I do. I saw Sir Edward Parkington a number of times. I talked with him at least twice, at White's. Moreover, he was an intimate of Baltimore. I cannot be mistaken—unless, of course, there be two of the name, which is unlikely."
"Decidedly unlikely," the Governor agreed. He took a turn back and forth on the grass. "When did you know this?" he asked, suddenly.
"From the moment I saw him."
"And why did you not disclose it—why did you keep silent?"
"It was at the races, the day after he arrived. I saw you bring him up and present him to Miss Stirling; a little later, when I met him, and was given his name as Parkington, I assumed there was some reason for it—when I heard of his letters, I was sure of it. It was no affair of mine, I thought, to meddle in affairs of State. You had vouched for him—that was sufficient."
The Colonel nodded. He dug his stick into the turf and considered.