"My fortune is made." And he dived again.
In the damp cabin of the sunk ship stood the gaunt form of many a brave mariner, faithful to his post even in death.

Seth gave them a passing glance, and shuddered a little as he met their glassy eyes.

He was about to rise to the surface with the remainder of his booty, when the figure nearest the door fell against him.
Turning on him, a cold perspiration suffused our hero from head to foot, and his hair rose like porcupine quills on his head.
It was not a corpse, but Solomon Smellie, the detective of Scotland Yard.
Sep had barely time to close to the cabin door, and strike out with his precious bags for the surface.

He felt he had had a narrow escape of detection, and that the sooner he sought a change of climate the better.
As for Solomon, it would have needed a strong door to keep him from his prey.
"Ha, ha!" said he, "the chain grows link by link.

Two and two make four.