Marley was dead, to begin with. So, very nearly, are you.
You are Ebenezer Scrooge. The third Spirit has just shown you the end: a churchyard choked with weeds, a neglected stone with your name on it, your bed-curtains sold to a rag-and-bone man, and a little crutch standing unused by the Cratchits' fire. Nobody wept. Nobody came.
You fell on your knees. "Assure me that I yet may change these shadows!" And the Phantom, very slowly, let you go back. The whole long night lies before you once more, from the counting-house to the grave. Mend it before the bells ring in Christmas morning.
Sound on, please. The night passes only while it is on your screen. There is no time limit, but every hint from Marley costs you two minutes.
Welcome back, . The night has waited for you. It is still dark, and the bells have not yet rung.