Sir Andrew’s resignation and Christian forbearance was extraordinary. He even smiled, as one after another of Mr. Redgill’s creditors grew red in the face, struck the table, and told what they thought of him. Old Moss, the Jew, was “sitting on thorns,” for he was very uneasy in his chair. He at last arose, and, approaching the Christian and martyr-like Sir Andrew, he flourished his clenched fist in the face of that meek and smiling gentleman, and said, “I’ll tell you what _I_ think about you, Sir Andrew McTurk—you are a d—d rogue, sir! and the whole lot of you are a gang of thieves, and ought to be hung, if there was any justice in the world.” With wonderful forbearance, Sir Andrew listened to all these personal compliments, but at last said, with much mildness, “Really, gentlemen, I cannot understand all this! I owe you nothing; neither does the late company, of which I, unfortunately, was president. You had better present your claims to the executors of Mr. Redgill’s estate. They are the proper persons to whom you should apply. I have nothing to do with all this. “The London Insurance Company certainly closed their doors very suddenly, but I was out of town at the time, and only heard of it by letter. We have had very extensive losses of late, but, had I any capital, it would have given me infinite pleasure to meet all claims—it would, I assure you! “In truth, I make the humiliating confession to you, gentlemen, despite your angry and unjust accusations, that I, personally, have not one penny in the world! “Were it not for some funds, which I cannot legally touch, owned by my wife’s sister—” Mr. Moss groaned very audibly at the words “my wife’s sister.” “On deposit at the South Sea Bank, we should not be worth a fraction, and would be all turned out into the streets! “But, my dear friends, why do you come to me about these affairs? I have nothing to do with them.” All this was said with a faint smile, which was like wormwood to all present. Mr. Moss, who flounced about the apartment like a mad morris dancer, flourished his walking-stick, and said, “The reason I come to see you, you sanctimonious old scoundrel, is to tell you what I think of you! “Had you paid the insurance on those vessels, like honest men would have done, I and every other creditor would have been satisfied in full; but now we don’t get one penny! “No, not a solitary farthing! “And do you think I don’t know all about your scheme—eh, you smiling old villain? “Don’t I know that young Redgill is going to be your son-in-law, eh? and that if you had paid the insurance, he wouldn’t lawfully come in for one penny? “Do you think I don’t know all about it, you scheming scoundrel?” Mr. Moss was bursting with rage. This disclosure only tended to raise the ire of the other creditors, who became so furious and noisy that they crowded round poor Sir Andrew, gesticulating and cursing so that they reminded one of a pack of hungry and furious wolves.