"Ten years ago you were a man that every one of us here trusted and
respected, a friend of several. In the War of the Revolution you
conducted yourself like a man of honor. You equipped your own brig with a
letter of marque, and sailed it yourself off Jamaica. You fought in three
engagements. You displayed a daring and bravery which we once admired."

"Could it have been possible?" my father bowed again. "I do recall I
failed to stay at home," he added, bowing again to Mr. Penfield.

Mr. Penfield frowned, and continued a little more quickly:

"And when you did return, you engaged in the China trade. You were a
successful man, Mr. Shelton. We looked upon you as one of the more
brilliant younger men of our seaport. We trusted you, Captain Shelton."

"Could it have been possible!" exclaimed my father.

"Yes," said Mr. Penfield in a louder tone, "we trusted you. You have only
to look at your books, if you have kept them, to remember that."

"My books," said my father, "still contrive to balance."

"In the year 1788," Mr. Penfield went on, "you remember that year, do you
not? In that year the six of us here engaged in a venture. From the north
we had carried here five hundred bales of fur, valued at fifty dollars to
the bale. You contracted with us, Captain Shelton, to convey those bales
to England. It would have been a nice piece of business, if your
supercargo had not been an honest man. He knew you, Shelton, if we did
not. He knew the game you had planned to play, and though he was your
brother-in-law, he was man enough to stop it."