'The usual story, captain.'
'Williams is my name.'
'The usual story, Captain Williams—sick wife, large family, broke a leg, wife died, behind-hand in his rent, steady man, but not punctual in paying his bills.'
'Why how the thunder could he? Couldn't his lordship wait till the poor fellow was a little recovered?'
'Business, captain, must be conducted in a business-like manner.'
'You thought otherwise once.'
'When was that, pray?'
'When the father of that man, whom your relentless cruelty pursues with such vindictive malice, took you, a friendless boy, fed and clothed you, educated you along with his own son—the very man whose misery you insult—when his father saved you from the "charitable institution" you would send his children to, and finally paid the fee for articling you to the attorney at Canterbury, where you learned your present devotion to business.'
The agent stared in speechless astonishment—the low musical laugh again rang through the room.
'Listen!' said the mariner. 'The creatures of the air, the beings of another world denounce you; the victims of your lust for gold, though buried fathoms deep in the grave, still find a voice to chill the marrow in your bones: the dead shall rise from their graves and confront you—the hidden perfidy of years shall be disclosed, base tool of a baser master—all your machinations against the wronged and the humble shall fail, and recoil upon yourselves. Repent ere it will be too late; you will never more be warned by me.'