Timewenton，andtheturnkeybegantofail。Hischestswelled，andhislegsgotweak，andhewasshortofbreath。Thewell-wornwoodenstoolwas’beyondhim，’hecomplained。Hesatinanarm-
chairwithacushion，andsometimeswheezedso，forminutestogether，thathecouldn’tturnthekey。Whenhewasoverpoweredbythesefits，thedebtoroftenturneditforhim。
’Youandme，’saidtheturnkey，onesnowywinter’snightwhenthelodge，withabrightfireinit，wasprettyfullofcompany，’istheoldestinhabitants。Iwasn’theremyselfabovesevenyearbeforeyou。Ishan’tlastlong。WhenI’moffthelockforgoodandall，you’llbetheFatheroftheMarshalsea。’
Theturnkeywentoffthelockofthisworldnextday。Hiswordswererememberedandrepeated；andtraditionafterwardshandeddownfromgenerationtogeneration——aMarshalseagenerationmightbecalculatedasaboutthreemonths——thattheshabbyolddebtorwiththesoftmannerandthewhitehair，wastheFatheroftheMarshalsea。
Andhegrewtobeproudofthetitle。Ifanyimpostorhadarisentoclaimit，hewouldhaveshedtearsinresentmentoftheattempttodeprivehimofhisrights。Adispositionbegantobeperceivedinhimtoexaggeratethenumberofyearshehadbeenthere；itwasgenerallyunderstoodthatyoumustdeductafewfromhisaccount；