_."

"I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the great man, in a loud voice,
flinging his hands up into the air. "I felt it was so the moment you
began the story. But tell me this, was there nothing found with you
with a mark or a name upon it?"

"There was a kerchief," said Tom, "marked with a T and a C."

"Theodosia Chillingsworth!" cried out the merchant. "I knew it! I knew
it! Heavens! to think of anything so wonderful happening as this! Boy!
boy! dost thou know who thou art? Thou art my own brother's son. His
name was Oliver Chillingsworth, and he was my partner in business, and
thou art his son." Then he ran out into the entryway, shouting and
calling for his wife and daughter to come.

So Tom Chist--or Thomas Chillingsworth, as he now was to be called--did
stay to supper, after all.

This is the story, and I hope you may like it. For Tom Chist became
rich and great, as was to be supposed, and he married his pretty cousin
Theodosia (who had been named for his own mother, drowned in the
_Bristol Merchant_).

He did not forget his friends, but had Parson Jones brought to New York
to live.

As to Molly and Matt Abrahamson, they both enjoyed a pension of ten
pounds a year for as long as they lived; for now that all was well with
him, Tom bore no grudge against the old fisherman for all the drubbings
he had suffered.

The treasure-box was brought on to New York, and if Tom Chist did not
get all the money there was in it (as Parson Jones had opined he would)
he got at least a good big lump of it. And it is my belief that those
log-books did more to get Captain Kidd arrested in Boston town and
hanged in London than anything else that was brought up against him.

III. THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN BRAND

_Being a Narrative of Certain Extraordinary Adventures that Befell
Barnaby True, Esquire, of the Town of New York, in the Year 1753._

I

It is not so easy to tell why discredit should be cast upon a man
because of something his grandfather may have done amiss, but the
world, which is never over-nice in its discrimination as to where to
lay the blame, is often pleased to make the innocent suffer instead of
the guilty.

Barnaby True was a good, honest boy, as boys go, but yet was he not
ever allowed altogether to forget that his grandfather had been that
very famous pirate, Captain William Brand, who, after so many
marvellous adventures (if one may believe the catchpenny stories and
ballads that were writ about