At these words Captain Obadiah, being thrown so suddenly upon his defence, forced himself to give forth a huge and boisterous laugh.  “What then?” he cried.  “What wickedness is there in that?  What if I have provided a few sugar plantations with negro slaves?  Are there not those here present who would do no better if the opportunity offered?  The place is mine, and I break no law by a bit of quiet slave-trading.”

“I marvel,” cried our young gentleman, still in the same virtuous strain—­“I marvel that you can pass over so wicked a thing thus easily.  I myself have counted above fifty graves of your victims on Pig and Sow Point.  Repent, sir, while there is yet time.”

But to this adjuration Captain Obadiah returned no other reply than to burst into a most wicked, impudent laugh.

“Is it so?” cried our young gentleman.  “Do you dare me to further exposures?  Then I have here another evidence to confront you that may move you to a more serious consideration.”  With these words he drew forth from his pocket a packet wrapped in soft white paper.  This he unfolded, holding up to the gaze of all a bright and shining object.  “This,” he exclaimed, “I found in Captain Obadiah’s writing-desk while I was hunting for some wax with which to seal a letter.”  It was the gold snuffbox of the late Collector Goodhouse.  “What,” he cried, “have you, sir, to offer in explanation of the manner in which this came into your possession?  See, here engraved upon the lid is the owner’s name and the circumstance of his having saved my own poor life.  It was that first called my attention to it, for I well recollect how my father compelled me to present it to my savior.  How came it into your possession, and why have you hidden it away so carefully for all this while?  Sir, in the death of Lieutenant Goodhouse I suspect you of a more sinister fault than that of converting yonder poor sanctuary into a slave-pen.  So soon as Captain Morris of your slave-ship returns from Jamaica I shall have him arrested, and shall compel him to explain what he knows of the circumstances of the Lieutenant’s unfortunate murder.”

At the sight of so unexpected an object in the young gentleman’s hand Captain Obadiah’s jaw fell, and his cavernous mouth gaped as though he had suddenly been stricken with a palsy.  He lifted a trembling hand and slowly and mechanically passed it along that cheek which was so discolored with gunpowder stain.  Then, suddenly gathering himself together and regaining those powers that appeared for a moment to have fled from him, he cried out, aloud:  “I swear to God ’twas all an accident!  I pushed him down the steps, and he fell and broke his neck!”

Our young gentleman regarded him with a cold and collected smile.  “That, sir,” said he, “you shall have the opportunity to explain to the proper authorities—­unless,” he added, “you choose to take yourself away from these parts, and to escape the just resentment of those laws to which you may be responsible for your misdemeanors.”