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."