"A few years went by, while the case of Captain Wilbur and the _Speedwell_ passed through its initial stages of being forgotten. Nothing succeeds like success; the man owned a fine ship, and those who did business with him soon came to take the situation for granted. Wilbur made fast passages, kept the _Speedwell_ in excellent trim, and paid his bills promptly; rumour of course had it that he was growing rich. In all probability it was true. After a while, some of his old friends were willing to let bygones be bygones; there were many more to whom the possession of a fine piece of property seemed of enough importance to cover a multitude of sins. The new fellows who came to the East and heard the tale for the first time couldn’t credit it after meeting Wilbur in the flesh. Little by little one began to see him again on the quarter-deck at the evening gatherings of the fleet, or among seafaring men ashore at tiffin. When, in time, it became unwise to start the story against him, for fear of misconstruction of one’s motive, it was evident that he had well-nigh won his nefarious match against society. "I’d met him a number of times, of course, during this interval, and had come to understand Lee Fu’s urgent advice. Indeed, for one curious about the habits of the human species, Wilbur compelled attention. That perfect urbanity, that air of unfailing dignity and confidence, that aura of a commanding personality, of an able ship-master among his brethren, of a man whose position in the world was secure beyond peradventure: all this could spring from one of only two spiritual conditions—either from a quiet and innocent conscience, or from a heart perfectly attuned to villainy. As he sat among us, taking up his proper word in the conversation, assuming no mask, showing no concern, it was with the utmost difficulty that one placed him as a man with a dark past, with a damnable blot on his escutcheon. So unconscious was his poise that one often doubted the evidence of memory, and found oneself going back over the record, only to fetch up point-blank against the incontestable fact that he had stolen his ship and betrayed his profession. By Jove, it seemed fantastic! Here he was, to all intents and purposes a gentleman; a likeable fellow, too, in many ways. He talked well, was positive without being arbitrary, usually had a fair and generous word for the issue under discussion, never indulged in criticism; and above all, damn him, he sustained a reputation for expert mastery over this profession to which he’d dealt such a foul blow. "’It is a triumph of character!’ Lee Fu used to repeat, as we compared notes on the case from time to time. ’I think he has not been guilty of a single minor error. His correctness is nothing short of diabolical. It presages disaster, like too much fair weather in the typhoon season. Wait and watch; mark my word, Captain, when the major error comes it will be a great tragedy’