"I'm sorry to hear this," said Anthony, "for it not only marks a serious loss to you, but it seems to show that Rufus Stevens' Sons is in shoal water."
"It was a black day for his house when your grandfather died," said Magruder. "And it was a worse one when your Creole mother coaxed your father away to Louisiana, and so left the trade and ships of the firm in the hands of your uncle."
Anthony looked perplexed.
"In New Orleans," said he, "merchants speak of my uncle with something like awe. In Havana, Martinique, and St. Kitts I've heard shipmasters tell tales of his enterprises that were like romances. If my mind has been made up to any one thing, it is that my uncle is a very prince of merchants."
"He has done fine things; he has done clever and difficult things," said the other. "I'll take no credit from him that's his due. But you are his nephew, and I'll say to you what I'd say to no one else. Let things progress as they are, and, great as is his house, it'll be that weak; rich as it is, it'll be that poor; splendid as are its adventures on the sea, they'll be that defenseless."
Anthony frowned at the man.
"That has a good deal of the sound of the letter you sent me," said he. "You've brought me a long distance to see you, Mr. Magruder, and so I think I can in all fairness expect words from you that I can make something of."
But the trader shook his head.
"Too plain speech is bad," said he. "One should never let the tongue venture where the hand dare not follow."
Anthony's boots scraped suddenly upon the floor; the chair creaked under him as he sat upright.