“There’s no use doing things by halves,” the young man remarked.  “As to our other agent, I have the very man—­Major Tobias Clutterbuck.  He is a shrewd, clever fellow, and he’s always hard up.  Last week he wanted to borrow a tenner from me.  The job would be a godsend to him, and his social rank would be a great help to our plan.  I’ll answer for his jumping at the idea.”

“Sound him on the subject, then.”

“I will.”

“I am glad,” said the old merchant, “that you and I have had this conversation, Ezra.  The fact of my having speculated without your knowledge, and deceived you by a false ledger, has often weighed heavily upon my conscience, I assure you.  It is a relief to me to have told you all.”

“Drop the subject, then,” Ezra said curtly.  “I must put up with it, for I have no redress.  The thing is done and nothing can undo it; but I consider that you have willfully wasted the money.”

“Believe me, I have tried to act for the best.  The good name of our firm is everything to me.  I have spent my whole life in building it up, and if the day should come when it must go, I trust that I may have gone myself.  There is nothing which I would not do to preserve it.”

“I see they want our premiums,” Ezra said, glancing at the open letter upon the table.  “How is it that none of those ships go down?  That would give us help.”

“Hush! hush!” John Girdlestone cried imploringly.  “Speak in a whisper when you talk of such things.”

“I can’t understand you,” said Ezra petulantly.  “You persistently over-insure your ships, year after year.  Look at the Leopard; it is put at more than twice what she was worth as new.  And the Black Eagle, I dare say, is about the same.  Yet you never have an accident with them, while your two new uninsured clippers run each other down.”

“Well, what more can I do?” replied the merchant “They are thoroughly rotten.  I have done nothing for them for years.  Sooner or later they must go.  I cannot do any more.”

“I’d make ’em go down quick enough,” muttered Ezra, with an oath.  “Why don’t you make old Miggs bore a hole in them, or put a light to a barrel of paraffin?  Bless your soul! the thing’s done every day.  What’s the use of being milk-and-watery about it?”

“No, no, Ezra!” cried his father.  “Not that—­not that.  It’s one thing letting matters take their course, and it is another thing giving positive orders to scuttle a ship.  Besides, it would put us in Miggs’ power.  It would be too dangerous.”

“Please yourself,” said Ezra, with a sneer.  “You’ve got us into the mess and you must take us out again.  If the worst comes to the worst I’ll tell you what I’ll do.  I’ll marry Kate Harston, wash my hands of the firm, leave you to settle matters with the creditors, and retire with the forty thousand pounds;” with which threat the junior partner took up his hat and swaggered out of the office.