In the afternoon he returned to Chelsea, and perhaps one who knew him might have remarked upon his face something like a gleam of satisfaction.  He had done his duty.

It was now five days since the fatal discovery.  Mr. Emblem still remained upstairs in his chair; but he was slowly recovering.  He clearly remembered that he had been robbed, and the principal sign of the shock was his firm conviction that by his own exercise of memory Iris had been enabled to enter into possession of her own.

As regards the Bill of Sale, he had clean forgotten it.  Now, in the morning, there happened a thing which surprised James very much.  The Man in Possession was recalled.  He went away.  So that the money must have been paid.  James was so astonished that he ran upstairs to tell Iris.

“Then,” said the girl, “we shall not be turned out after all.  But who has paid the money?”

It could have been no other than Arnold.  Yet when, later in the day, he was taxed with having committed the good action, Arnold stoutly denied it.  He had not so much money in the world, he said; in fact, he had no money at all.

“The good man,” said the Philosopher, “has friends of whom he knoweth not.  As the river returns its waters to the sea, so the heart rejoiceth in returning benefits received.”

“Oh, Lala,” said Iris.  “But on whom have we conferred any benefits?”

“The moon shines upon all alike,” said Lala, “and knows not what she illumines.”

“Lala Roy,” said Arnold, suddenly getting a gleam of intelligence, “it is you who have paid this money.”

“You, Lala?”

“No one else could have paid it,” said Arnold.

“But I thought—­I thought—­” said Iris.

“You thought I had no money at all.  Children, I have some.  One may live without money in Hindostan, but in England even the Philosopher cannot meditate unless he can pay for food and shelter.  I have money, Iris, and I have paid the usurer enough to satisfy him.  Let us say no more.”

“Oh, Lala!” The tears came to Iris’s eyes.  “And now we shall go on living as before.”

“I think not,” he replied.  “In the generations of Man, the seasons continue side by side; but spring does not always continue with winter.”

“I know, now,” interrupted Mr. Emblem, suddenly waking into life and recollection; “I could not remember at first.  Now I know very well, but I cannot tell how, that the man who stole my papers is my own grandson.  James would not steal.  James is curious; he wants to read over my shoulders what I am writing.  He would pry and find out.  But he would not steal.  It doesn’t matter much—­does it?—­since I was able to repair the loss—­I always had a most excellent memory—­and Iris has now received her inheritance; but it is my grandson Joe who has stolen the papers.  My daughter’s son came home from Australia when—­but this I learned afterward—­he had already disgraced himself there.  He ran into debt, and I paid his debts; he forged my name and I accepted the bill; he took all the money I could let him have, and still he asked for more.  There is no one in the world who would rob me of those papers except Joseph.”