Mr. Edmund Gray rose and walked to the safe. He laid his hands upon a packet and took it out. 'These are the papers,' he said. Sir Samuel opened the roll and looked them over. 'They seem all right,' he said. 'This is very wonderful.' 'Wonderful--and sad--most lamentable,' whispered Lady Dering. 'Wonderful, indeed!' Mrs. Arundel echoed. 'Most wonderful! most unexpected!' 'A moment more, and I have done.' Elsie again took up the tale. 'Here is a cheque to the order of Mr. Dering signed by Mr. Edmund Gray for the whole of the money lying in his name at the Bank.--You agree, Master, that it is best for the future that all your affairs should be in the hands of your solicitor?' 'I quite agree.' 'Here is a letter to the manager of the Bank, requesting him to pay over Edmund Gray's dividends to the account of Mr. Dering.--And now I think I have proved my case. Here in the safe were the ten-pound notes received by Mr. Edmund Gray, and placed there by him. Here were the transfers and certificates placed there by him: you have heard half-a-dozen people testify to the fact that you have Edmund Gray before you. His statement of the business has been read to you. It shows, what no other theory of the case could show, how the thing was really done. Lastly, it shows the absolute and complete innocence of my brother and of George.--Have you anything more to say, Sir Samuel?' 'Nothing--except that I was misled by a statement concerning a profligate life among low companions, without which no suspicion could have fallen upon either of you gentlemen. It was'--he pointed to the unhappy Checkley-'a vile and malignant falsehood. Do you hear, sir? Vile and malignant. It only remains for us all to make such reparation as we may--nothing would suffice, I know, but such reparation as we can--by the expression of the shame and regret that we all feel.' 'Athelstan,' said his mother, 'what can I say? Oh! what can I say?' Athelstan rose--during the long business he had sat motionless in the clients' chair, his head in his hand. Now he rose and stepped over to his mother. 'Hush!' he said. 'Not a word. It is all forgotten--all forgiven.' But Hilda sank upon her knees and caught his hands. 'George,' said Sir Samuel, 'forgive me. The case looked black against you at one time. It did indeed. Forgive me.' He held out his hand. Then there was great hand-shaking, embracing, and many tears. As for Checkley, he crept out and vanished in the retreat of his own room. 'It is all over,' he murmured--'all over. I've lost four hundred pounds a year. That's gone. All over--all over!' Mr. Edmund Gray looked on this happy scene of family reconciliation with benevolence and smiles. Family reconciliations must not be prolonged; you cannot sit over a family reconciliation as over a bottle of port. It must be quickly despatched. Sir Samuel whispered to Hilda that they had better go.