Apparently they were not, for no one took the least notice of him, and they were occupied with something else.  How could they think of anything else?  Yet Mr. Chalker, standing at the table, was making a speech, which had nothing to do with the robbery.

“Here I am, you see, Mr. Emblem,” he said; “I have told you already that I don’t want to do anything to worry you.  Let us be friends all round.  This gentleman, your friend from India, will advise you, I am sure, for your own good, not to be obstinate.  Lord! what is the amount, after all, to a substantial man like yourself?  A substantial man, I say.”  He spoke confidently, but he glanced about the shop with doubtful eyes.  “Granted that it was borrowed to get your grandson out of a scrape—­supposing he promised to pay it back and hasn’t done so; putting the case that it has grown and developed itself as bills will do, and can’t help doing, and can’t be stopped; it isn’t the fault of the lawyers, but the very nature of a hill to go on growing—­it’s like a baby for growing.  Why, after all, you were your grandson’s security—­you can’t escape that.  And when I would no longer renew, you gave of your own accord—­come now, you can’t deny that—­a Bill of Sale on goods and furniture.  Now, Mr. Emblem, didn’t, you?  Don’t let us have any bitterness or quarreling.  Let’s be friends, and tell me I may send away the man.”

Mr. Emblem smiled pleasantly, but did not reply.

“A Bill of Sale it was, dated January the 25th, 1883, just before that cursed Act of Parliament granted the five days’ notice.  Here is the bailiff’s man in possession.  You can pay the amount, which is, with costs and Sheriff’s Poundage, three hundred and fifty-one pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence, at once, or you may pay it five days hence.  Otherwise the shop, and furniture, and all, will be sold off in seven days.”

“Oh,” James gasped, listening with bewilderment, “we can’t be going to be sold up!  Emblem’s to be sold up!”

“Three hundred and fifty pounds!” said Mr. Emblem.  “My friend, let us rather speak of thousands.  This is a truly happy day for all of us.  Sit down, Mr. Chalker—­my dear friend, sit down.  Rejoice with us.  A happy morning.”

“What the devil is the matter with him?” asked the money-lender.

“There was something, Mr. Chalker,” Mr. Emblem went on cheerfully, “something said about my grandson.  Joe was always a bad lot; lucky his father and mother are out of the way in Australia.  You came to me about that business, perhaps?  Oh, on such a joyful day as this I forgive everybody.  Tell Joe I do not want to see him, but I have forgiven him.”

“Oh, he’s mad!” growled James; “he’s gone stark staring mad!”

“You don’t seem quite yourself this morning, Mr. Emblem,” said Mr. Chalker.  “Perhaps this gentleman, your friend from India, will advise you when I am gone.  You don’t understand, Mister,” he addressed Lala Roy, “the nature of a bill.  Once you start a bill, and begin to renew it, it’s like planting a tree, for it grows and grows of its own accord, and by Act of Parliament, too, though they do try to hack and cut it down in the most cruel way.  You see Mr. Emblem is obstinate.  He’s got to pay off that bill, which is a Bill of Sale, and he won’t do it.  Make him write the check and have done with it.”