Whitehall, the country residence of Governor Sharpe, lay on the banks of the Chesapeake, about ten miles north of Annapolis.  
It was originally part of the Colonel Greenberry estate, and was willed by him to St. Margaret's Church, Westminster Parish. Colonel Sharpe, when he decided to make his home permanently in America, purchased it, after considerable difficulty with the vestry, and proceeded to erect thereon, three years before, a most commodious and handsome mansion.
 
The large central house, of English brick, square and of two-and-a-half stories, stands on a slight—a very slight—eminence, from which a long esplanade of velvety lawn, set with flowers and shrubbery, led down to the blue waters of the Bay, a quarter of a mile distant.
 
It was but one room in depth, and three in width—the entrances from the Bay and the land sides, being into a large middle room, which served as both reception and living room—with the dining-room on the one side and the drawing-room on the other. They all had great, high ceilings, beautifully carved, with cornices, mantels and doorways to match, and panelled walls, set off by soft-toned[Pg 254] hangings. And over the fire-place in the dining-room, hung a portrait of the Governor, himself, in the red dress-uniform of a Lieutenant-Colonel of the 20th Foot.
 
(It hangs there to-day—just as he left it when he returned to England, and gave Whitehall to John Ridout, his Secretary—showing a tall man, and a heavy, with a high forehead, and fine, well-bred face, of a florid complexion, and grave eyes that searched without repelling.
 
He was a good man, in a measure a great man, and, yet, he failed. Not signally, as most of our governors of Colonial days, but failed, none-the-less. It was no easy thing to handle the people of Maryland, at the period of the beginning of the breaking, yet he was popular as no other governor was popular, even, in America. He was Commander-in-chief of the Colonial forces, in the French War, and, for far less services, he should have received the well deserved reward of Knighthood, and a pension—the pension, at the very least, ought to have been forthcoming. Instead—nothing: not even his Sovereign's thanks. He did his full duty, and much more—but he failed. What was the reason? Possibly, somewhere, among the musty records of the Colonial office, there is an explanation—possibly, some cabinet minister was unfriendly—possibly, the young King was, even then, exhibiting his narrowness and his bigotry. Who can tell!)
 
The tall pillars, which now mark the entrance on[Pg 255] the Bay-side, were not in the original construction—Governor Sharpe never saw them; and his race track and the servants' quarters, which he placed on the level ground to the rear, beyond the wide sweep of turf, have vanished. The dungeons remain, however, beneath the main house, and, in one of the wings of the mansion, the Colonel's quarters are practically unchanged.
 
It was a fine, old place, typical of Maryland and Annapolis, in the days of the Colony—of her lavishness and good cheer, her hospitality and her courtesy, her gallantry and her fame. Those days have ended—the Eastern and the Western Shores know no more the life that once was theirs. Their glory has departed—their sun has set. Whitehall, and all its fellows, are but the waifs of a dead past.
 
It was otherwise, however, on this August morning, in the year of Grace 1766. The Governor was in presence—and all that life, and action, and a master-hand could effect, were in evidence.
 
His excellency had been down to the race track, for an early morning inspection. The horses had been put through the paces, under his own eyes—and blame and praise were given indiscriminately. He had a rare gift for picking the faults and the perfections in their training, and he let censure fall where due—nor minced his words.
 
"I tell you, Maynadier, Hanover promises well, damned well, indeed!" he said. "He has the wind[Pg 256] and the legs of the best of them, or I miss my guess. Sir Edward Parkington is no mean judge of horseflesh; he has seen the fleetest we have at home, and he says Hanover is the king of them all."
 
"I hope he is, Colonel," said Maynadier. "You know, I have nothing entered against him."
 
"And jolly well glad you may be, my boy!" exclaimed the Colonel. "You will have the delight of seeing me win, and the pleasure of not seeing yourself beaten. Speaking of Parkington, what is this I hear of his attentions to Miss Marbury, and having a notion to settle in Maryland. You are more intimate with the Marburys than any one else, is there any truth in it?"
 
"I do not know—on that score, Miss Marbury has not taken me into her confidence."
 
The Governor regarded him questioningly.
 
"Why do you not marry the girl yourself?" he demanded, abruptly. "Give Rose Hill a mistress—it needs one."
 
"I will not gainsay that it needs one," said Maynadier, with an amused smile.
 
"Neither will you gainsay that Judith Marbury would fill the place, admirably. There is style and breeding about that girl, Maynadier. I like her much, damned much! Why should she marry an Englishman? Sir Edward is all right, I suppose—but he has only his manners and Baltimore's letters to vouch for him. And not much credit in the letters, God knows!"
 
[Pg 257]
 
Maynadier was puzzled. Could it be the Governor was not aware that Parkington was not Parkington?—was he not in the secret?—was he being imposed on, also?
 
"Sometimes, I have thought," he ventured, "that Parkington is not quite what he seemed—that he is playing a part."
 
"Playing a part!" Colonel Sharpe ejaculated. "I do not understand."
 
Maynadier looked at him, a moment, in silence.
 
"You do not understand?" he asked, slowly. "Do you honestly mean it?"
 
"Mean it! Of course I mean it. What do you mean?"
 
"Have I permission to speak plainly?"
 
"You have," said the Governor—"right from the shoulder. What is it?"
 
"Is it possible, sir, you do not know that Sir Edward Parkington is an assumed name—that this man is not Parkington?"
 
The Colonel stared at him, incredulously.
 
"Not Parkington?" he marveled. "Not Parkington?"
 
Maynadier bowed. "To my certain knowledge, not Parkington."
 
"But his letters—they were authentic—they were in Baltimore's own hand!"
 
"I do not dispute them," said Maynadier, "but I have met Sir Edward Parkington, in London——"
 
[Pg 258]
 
"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.
 
"It is a bit awkward," he said. "He has been accepted, by the Province, on the strength of my[Pg 259] vouchment—and I introduced him on the strength of his letters—and the letters are authentic——"
 
"Hence he is authentic!" laughed Maynadier.
 
"I am justified in so assuming," the Colonel continued. "On the other hand, I can have him thrown out as an impostor, and proclaim him as such—but, what is the profit? The man is plainly of the class he masquerades; he has borne himself, naturally, as one of them; he has committed no improprieties.—I am at a loss what to do—whether to demand an explanation, or to let things rest, for the present.... If I thought he would soon depart, I should be tempted to do nothing. And, yet, where did he get those letters?—Did the real Parkington give them to him for a purpose? did he steal them? or is not Parkington in it, at all—is it some of Baltimore's doings?" He threw up his hands, in doubt.
 
"There is the gentleman, now," said Maynadier, who was standing facing the house. "He is coming this way."
 
The Governor turned, and watched him approach.
 
"Hum! damned fine looking!" he muttered. "He could give the real Parkington all the weight, and then beat him in a canter. Confound it, Maynadier, I like the fellow!"
 
"So do I," said Maynadier. "You cannot help liking him. He has the qualities that appeal to a man—there are a certain dash, and verve, and lightheartedness about him that are very taking."
 
[Pg 260]
 
"The compliments of the morning to your Excellency—and to you, Mr. Maynadier," said Parkington, with a graceful bow—"and, if I may, to the horses, as well."
 
"A man is known by the company he keeps, as Governor Ogle said, when he built the stable in his front yard, on King George Street!" laughed Colonel Sharpe.
 
"He was a true sportsman," said Maynadier. "His horses and his dogs next after his family. It was the sure sign of his British blood."
 
"Colonel Sharpe," said Parkington, presently, "I want to ask a favor?"
 
"It is granted, before it is asked."
 
"Which is a trifle rash, sir; I may ask for a hundred guineas."
 
"They will be forthcoming, if you do."
 
"I will not impose on good nature," smiled Parkington. "But what I do want, is your permission to go to Annapolis, and bring back a friend, Sir Charles Brandon, who came two days ago. He would have paid his respects sooner, to your Excellency, but the Assembly took all your time."
 
"Go, by all means!" said the Governor; "but you should have informed me of his intended coming, so I could have had him down."
 
"I did not know he was closer than London," Parkington protested, "until he walked into the Coffee-house, the other night, and found me—and he was as surprised as I."
 
[Pg 261]
 
"Bring him down!" said the Colonel, heartily.—"Take the pinnace and bring him down.—How long does he expect to stay in Annapolis?"
 
"Until the next ship sails for England."
 
"Good—it will be a pleasure to have him."
 
"I did not mean to ask for an invitation for——"
 
"Tut! tut! we shall be delighted. A visiting Englishman is a boon—like yourself."
 
Parkington turned back to the house. Colonel Sharpe watched him, until he disappeared through the doorway, then, he swung around toward Maynadier.
 
"Either the plot grows thicker, or else it is cleared altogether. Either there are two Sir Edward Parkingtons or else Brandon is an abettor of the impostor. Well, we will wait and see."
 
As they went slowly in, Constable overtook them. He had been down at the far end of the track, putting a green hunter over the jumps.
 
............