Part 14

"I hope nothing is wrong with Dora?"

"My visit concerns Dora. To come to the point at once, I am afraid that this marriage arranged for to-morrow cannot take place."

Jefferson stared at him aghast.

"In the name of goodness--_why_ not?"

Jefferson had seated himself on the table, one slippered foot just touching the floor. Mr Maybury walked up to him.

"I am exceedingly sorry to have to bring you this news. Believe me, I feel for your position. The truth of the matter is, Dora loves another man, and therefore it would be most wrong on my part to allow your marriage with her to take place."

Jefferson stared at his visitor in amazement

"Are you quite sober, sir?" he demanded.

"Yes, I am absolutely sober."

"Then allow me to tell you that you are talking so much tomfoolery! Of course the marriage must take place! How on earth can you have allowed yourself to come here with such a suggestion? I suppose Dora is in a state of nervousness that borders on hysteria and so has got some foolish fancy into her head that she doesn't like me enough. For Heaven's sake, man, go home and reason with her, and don't delay me any longer with such a wild-goose tale."

The ex-merchant regarded Jefferson with a cool and resolute gaze.

"This is not a wild-goose tale. Dora is not hysterical. Nor is this a foolish fancy of hers. She prefers young Mortimer to you, and it would be an unpardonable crime on my part to allow her to marry you."

"Mortimer!--_that_ bounder!"

"She loves Mortimer--and he is not, I may add, a bounder. He is as good a gentleman as I have ever met."

The situation was getting serious. Jefferson took off his overcoat and lit a cigarette. Then--by way of steadying his own nerves--he mixed himself a whisky and soda. Finally he came to a halt opposite his visitor, and as he did so his lips set in an ugly and determined line.

"Now, look here, Maybury," he said, blowing a column of smoke ceilingwards, "let us talk sense. Dora likes this Mortimer--I have known that for a long time. To-night his name is in every mouth--yes, I have read in the evening papers of what he has done. And so it suddenly occurs to her that she would prefer to be the wife of a brilliant young surgeon rather than of a--well, of a not very brilliant young stockbroker."

Mr Maybury held up his hand, but Jefferson would not be silenced.

"She comes to you in tears, declaring she cannot marry me. You, not knowing women as I do, are convinced by her tears, and come straight off to me to say the marriage can't take place. You are, if you will excuse me for saying so, a fool. I will marry Dora to-morrow, and afterwards I will prove to you that I am as good a man as any common cad of a surgeon you may please to take into your house as a lodger!"

Jefferson's eyes were blazing with fury. The whisky had done its work.

"I have already told you," returned Mr Maybury, in even, quiet tones, "that I feel very much for you. The abandonment of this match will put you in a very awkward position, but I must repeat that the marriage cannot and _shall not_ take place."

"And _I_ say," shouted Jefferson, "that I will not be bested by Mortimer. He shall not marry Dora. I look to her to keep her promise. Mortimer shall never have her!"

"No, he never will," said Mr Maybury.

"What! You said just now that she prefers him to me!"

"She will never marry him," Mr Maybury resumed, "because in all probability he will be dead within four-and-twenty hours!"

"_Dead!_" Jefferson's face lit up with renewed hope.

"Yes, he has been severely mauled by a gang of Hooligans. The medical man who has seen him declares that his case is hopeless."

Jefferson did not speak for a few moments. Then he burst into a laugh.

"I see--I see it all! Mortimer is brought in unconscious, and Dora promptly faints. She is inclined to be sentimental, as I know. And so you come here and tell me I mustn't marry her. Did ever man set out on such a preposterous errand? My good Maybury, I shall be at the church to-morrow, and if you and your daughter are not there you will never set foot in my office again."

"We shall certainly not be there," replied Mr Maybury.

"We shall see. You've got a night to sleep on it. My father is ill, and is away on the Continent. I am head of the firm during his absence. Fail to keep your contract to-morrow afternoon, and you need never show your face in my office again. Were my father in London he would support me, for he will not see me insulted in this manner. I will telegraph to him, if you like."

"You need not do that," said Mr Maybury, moving towards the door; "I accept my dismissal at your hands."

Jefferson laughed again. "I really think you cannot be quite sober. Just reflect on what you are doing. Can you afford to throw up your job with us?"

Mr Maybury turned fiercely upon the young man. "_Afford_! Listen to me, Mr Jefferson. My child's happiness is to me a matter of higher importance than my post in your firm. I am a poor man--Heaven knows!--and want every penny I earn as your book-keeper, but that fact will not deter me from doing what I conceive to be my duty. I say my child shall _not_ marry you."

And without another word Dora's father turned on his heel and went his way.

*CHAPTER XXIX.*

*THE DOCTOR VISITS MOUNT STREET.*

When Koko left No. 9, after seeing Jim put to bed, he went straight to Taplow's surgery, and was lucky enough to find that the bearded man was still there.

"Doctor, I want you to spend the night with Mortimer," said Koko.

"Impossible," said the bearded man. "I have an urgent case which will keep me up till four."

"What's to be done, then?"

"Get a trained nurse--I'll give you the address of a place in the West End where about two hundred of them live when they have no case on. Telephone the manageress, and say you want a nurse sent to No. 9 Derby Crescent to-night. I'll look in at breakfast-time."

He gave Koko the address of the nurses' home.

"Right!" said Koko. "Now, doctor, tell me candidly--has Mortimer got a chance?"

"Not a ghost of one," said the bearded man; "even if he pulled through he would be paralysed for the rest of his life, but he won't pull through. The mischief is in the spine--where he was kicked."

"I shot the fellow," said Koko, between his teeth.

"Did you? Well, I don't suppose he will be much loss. If the police were allowed to carry revolvers we shouldn't hear much more of this Hooliganism."

Koko paced restlessly up and down the surgery, and then turned abruptly to the bearded man.

"Look here, doctor," he exclaimed, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but is it possible that you're mistaken about my friend Mortimer?"

"Time will show," said the bearded man, coldly. "I give him twenty-four hours. Now, if you're ready, I'll turn the gas out. I must be off."

With a sorrowful heart Koko hailed a cab and drove to the nurses' home. He had experienced too many of the telephone's delays. At the home he promptly engaged a nurse, waited while she packed her box, and then conveyed her to No. 9, where he confided her to the care of Mrs Maybury.

After this Koko made his way to a telegraph office in the Strand, and inquired whether he could wire to Threeways. He was told that he was too late. He therefore wrote out a telegram, briefly informing old Dr Mortimer of what had happened, and left it with the clerk at the counter to be dispatched directly the office opened on the following morning.

Then Koko, worn out, sought his bed. At ten the next morning he had to appear at the Blackfriars police court to answer the charge of "causing the death" of the bandaged Hooligan, and also to give evidence against the six roughs in custody.

About eleven the next morning Dr Mortimer arrived at No. 9, and was ushered up to Jim's bedroom. A brief examination told him that his grandson was very far gone indeed, and so without delay he drove to Harley Street and alighted at the door of Trefusis, the first authority on spine trouble. Dr Trefusis promised to proceed to Derby Crescent immediately. A few doors lower down lived Sir Savile Smart. Dr Mortimer was so fortunate as to find him in.

"Smart, I want you to come and look at my boy."

"Jim! What's wrong?"

"The Hooligans have been at him. I want you to meet Trefusis and give an opinion. Brain and spine injuries. You'll come?"

"My shoulder hurts; but I'll come with pleasure."

By one o'clock Jim had been examined by the two great surgeons. During the process they both looked grave, but at the end of it Sir Savile drew a deep breath of relief.

"He's a tough young dog. We shall pull him through, Trefusis?"

The spine man looked doubtful

"We may. He'll be unconscious for a week. When he comes round we shall be able to tell better."

Then the specialist turned to Dr Mortimer.

"I will do my best for your boy, sir. He may live. I cannot say with certainty. A great deal depends on the nursing. I'll come to-morrow. Good-day.

Soon after the two surgeons had driven off, Koko arrived at No. 9. He had satisfied the magistrate that he had shot the Hooligan because his own life was threatened, and had subsequently given some solid evidence against the six prisoners, all of whom were committed for trial. Koko, however, had still to attend the inquest on the dead Hooligan, to be held two days later, and exonerate himself from all blame.

Mr Maybury introduced Koko to Dr Mortimer.

"This is your grandson's great friend--Mr Somers."

They shook hands.

"I thought your name was Coke," said the old Doctor.

"Jim calls me Koko because I am rather bald," explained Somers, meekly.

"And you saved Jim's life last night?"

"I shot----"

"Yes, I read about that in the paper. Will you shake hands with me again? ... and now please take me round to my boy's surgery. I've only seen a photograph of it up to the present."

Side by side the wealthy Eastfolk doctor and the little sporting reporter walked out of Derby Crescent into the bustling Blackfriars Road, and presently wheeled out of that thoroughfare into Mount Street.

"What a detestable district!" exclaimed Dr Mortimer as they were passing the Nathans' fried fish shop, from which proceeded a by no means delectable odour of hissing horse fat.

"It's Jim's country," said Koko.

"Is he popular round here?"

"They love him," said Koko.

The old Doctor's face just then was a study. He may have been thinking of Threeways, where he had resided for so many years without endearing himself to a single soul.

"What sort of a living has my grandson made here?" he asked presently.

"Oh, he has scraped along."

Dr Mortimer cleared his throat.

"When he was at Matthew's he used to run up very extravagant tailors' bills--indeed, he ran up extravagant bills of all kinds."

"I know he did," said Koko.

"I expect," continued Dr Mortimer, "he has rather missed that sort of thing over here."

"He hasn't had any new things since he's been here," said Koko.

The Doctor cleared his throat again. "I presume--er--I presume he had sufficient clothes?"

"Oh yes--but last winter's things had to do, you know."

The Doctor was silent for some moments. The Jim who could make old things do was not the Jim he had known. Jim, up to last September, had always been fastidious about the cut of his coats, and most partial to fancy waistcoats. Not that the Doctor had really minded paying for them--in fact, he had liked to see Jim well-turned-out. What he had objected to was Jim's utter disregard of even moderation in expenditure. And to think that this same Jim had been making last winter's things "do"!

The Doctor reflected a good deal on Koko's replies. It occurred to him that if he had tried to understand Jim better in the past, this split would never have occurred. He had thundered rebukes at Jim much as an army sergeant would upbraid a refractory private, and Jim, in return, had simply been cheeky. Now, supposing he had reasoned with the lad in a kindly, gentle manner, would that not have proved more effectual than inditing fierce epistles to his grandson, when the latter was in town, or shouting a lecture to him across the telephone, as on that September morning of vivid remembrance?

Jim had never known a mother's care. He had been brought up by his grandfather, who had taken a pride in him such as a man takes in a handsome horse or dog. And so Jim ran wild, and, in the end, was expelled from Threeways.

Such were the thoughts that coursed through the old Doctor's mind as he paced down Mount Street by the side of George Somers.

"Here we are," said Koko at length.

So this was Jim's surgery! The old Doctor halted and stared at the shabby-looking corner building. This was where Jim had been getting his living since he had been barred from the old roof-tree in Eastfolk!

"Did he rent the entire building?" inquired Dr Mortimer.

"Yes. It was a pawnbroker's place before Jim took it."

"Great heavens! And why did he allow these abominable placards to be pasted on his walls?"

"The old chap who let him the place wanted some money, so Jim made him a present of the outside of the house for advertising purposes," explained Koko.

The Doctor looked amazed.

"Dear! dear! What a quixotic notion!"

"Jim was always like that," said Koko.

The old Doctor bit his lip and again frowned upon the posters. Filling the bill this week at the local theatre was a play in which a steam-roller was the principal attraction. A poster, cunningly attached to Jim's wall, just where his red lamp would shine upon it after dusk, depicted the steam-roller descending a narrow hill at top speed, while directly in its track lay a young woman in evening dress, and apparently unconscious. The poster had attracted half the adult population of Mount Street to the theatre.

"Now I come to think of it," said the Doctor, "I remember something of this kind was visible in the photograph of the place which James sent me at Christmas. It represented a man throwing another man--or a woman, possibly a woman--out of a balloon. I suppose these dreadful pictures are changed every week?"

"Yes, something fresh every Monday," said Koko.

"Dear, dear me! To think of it!"

"It didn't matter to Jim," put in Koko; "he was rather amused by the posters."

"And who was the man who prevailed upon James to part with his walls in this philanthropic manner?" inquired the Doctor.

"A provision dealer called Harris."

At that moment Koko felt a touch on his arm, and wheeled round to find old Harris himself at his elbow.

"Mr Somers, sir, seeing you standin' 'ere, I've come to ask after the doctor. All Mount Street wants to know 'ow 'e is. Is he like to die?"

"There is hope, but not much. You know yourself how badly he was knocked about."

"Yes, I know that. Yes, and I pretty near screwed that 'unchback's 'ead orf, so 'elp me!" returned the provision dealer, with a savage chuckle.

"Are you the man mentioned in the newspapers as having fetched the police?" Dr Mortimer demanded of Mr Harris.

"Yes, I'm the man," was the answer--"I fetched 'em. You see, last night I goes into Dr Mortimer's surgery and svallows vot I took for prussic acid. Yes, 'arf a pint. And vile I vos vaitin' for the end, I fell asleep, and ven I vakes the doctor vos standin' by me. Vell, 'e tells me it vosn't p'ison, and then 'e goes orf to Pine Court. Vell, just after, in comes Mr Somers, and says 'e: 'Vare is the doctor?' an' I says: ''E's gone to vare it mentions in that bit of paper.' 'Pine Court,' says Mr Somers. 'Mrs Murphy's.' 'Mrs Murphy don't live in Pine Court,' says I. 'I knows all the people in these courts.' Mr Somers 'e looks startled, and reads the note again. 'This looks fishy, 'Arris,' he says; 'this writin's in a disguised 'and.' I gets up and looks at the note, and I sees at once it vos my son Isaac's 'andwritin'----"

"Your son's!" exclaimed Dr Mortimer. "Do the police know that?"

"They don't," replied Mr Harris; "and for vy? Vy, for becos I says to Mr Somers: 'This is a trap,' I says, 'and ve'll be after the doctor and save 'im. But I'll 'elp you on one condition only.' 'Vot's that?' says Mr Somers, sharp like. 'That you don't split on Isaac! You agree to that, an' I'll lend you this revolver!' I vos goin' to shoot myself at first, you see, sir, an' then I thought p'ison vould be cleaner. 'Agreed,' says Mr Somers, and off ve goes, I to fetch the police and Mr Somers straight for Pine Court, vith the loaded revolver in 'is pocket."

"And this scoundrel of a son of yours--where is he?" demanded the Doctor.

The old man laughed softly to himself.

"My son Isaac? '_E's bolted_! 'E vent at once--vithout a vord. I says: 'Isaac,' I says, 'you wrote that note. You're in my power. You'll 'ang if I put up my little finger!' And Isaac, 'e just vent right out of the door vithout even puttin' on 'is 'at! 'E von't trouble me no more, but 'e'll always get a livin'. 'E's clever as paint, is Isaac! Yes, 'e vent out like that--never saw a man go out of a 'ouse so quick in my life. So I've altered the name over my shop back to '_Arris & Son_--there's the painter just finishin'--and now I'm my own master agen."

And the old dealer snapped his lean fingers for sheer joy.

"Why 'Harris & Son,' if your son has run away for good?" asked Dr Mortimer.

"Becos 'Arris by itself vould cause remark. If anyone says: 'Vare's your son, Mr 'Arris?' I shall say, '_E's gone avay for 'is 'ealth,_' and that'll 'ave to satisfy 'em."

And with a leer of the utmost self-complacency Mr Harris saluted his two listeners, and went back to watch the painter conclude the alteration in the title over the provision shop.

Mrs Brown, Jim's caretaker, was in, and admitted Koko and his companion. The old doctor gazed silently round the surgery. There was Jim's working coat, there was his pipe-rack, there was the quaint Chinaman whose sudden fall forwards--ingeniously contrived by the Long 'Un--used to announce the opening of the street door.

"I should never have thought," murmured the Doctor, "that Jim would have settled down in a place like this."

"He did settle down, though," said Koko, "and he was working it up into a good thing when this horrible plot was laid for him."

"We must keep it going, then," said the Doctor. "Do you suppose any of his friends at the hospital would be willing to act in his place?"

"Sure of it," said Koko. "I think you had better ask Evans--a red-headed man--and Deadwood. They are both friends of Jim's."

"I'll go and see them at once," said the Doctor, "and then I must get back to Threeways. I have some patients I cannot leave for long."

"What about the hoarding?" asked Koko.

"Well," said the Doctor, "considering the service Mr Harris rendered last night, I think we ought to let him continue to make money out of Jim's walls."

And so, thereafter, each Monday saw a fresh pictorial embellishment of the surgery's exterior; every Monday the youth of Mount Street was thrilled to the marrow by new scenes of derringdo of lovely ladies in peril and gallant gentlemen dashing to their assistance, and of virtue triumphing over vice, as always virtue will do so long as there remain in the world good women and honourable men.

And the transpontine drama reaped many sixpences thereby.

*CHAPTER XXX.*

*THE WEEK PASSES.*

True to the prognostication of the great Trefusis, Jim Mortimer remained unconscious for seven days. During that time, liquid food--beef extract and milk--was poured down his throat, and thus the lamp of his life was kept alight. At the end of the week, Jim, emaciated and hollow-cheeked, opened his eyes, and the first person he caught sight of and addressed was, appropriately enough, his friend George Somers.

"Well, young feller!" he said, with a brave attempt to smile in his old, cheery way.

Koko took his hand and pressed it gently.

"You must get well quick now, Jim, old boy."

"It isn't in me," said Jim.

"But you must. Oh, Jim, please buck up and get well!"

Jim tried to shake his head, and the agonising pain which this slight action caused him brought the perspiration out on his face.

"I'm too far gone, dear old chap," he murmured. "I know it."

Koko gently bathed his friend's damp face with a sponge dipped in some cool, soothing lotion. His touch was as soft as a woman's. The trained nurse, when she went out for her daily ride on the top of a 'bus, knew that she was leaving her patient in good hands when she left him with Koko.

"That's great," muttered Jim, and fell into a doze.

As Koko kept watch by his chum's bedside, his kindly brown eyes became dim and misty. Could it be that he was to lose Jim after all? he wondered. Oh no, that could not be! Surely this great, honest fellow would be spared! He was so young--hardly more than a boy--and had lived such a little time.

Surely, thought Koko, in his simple faith, God would take that into consideration. _He_ would remember how young Jim was, and remember, too, that in spite of all the knocking about and drinking and ragging he had done, Jim had never once been guilty of a dishonourable action. He had lived a clean life, and such errors of conduct as he had been guilty of had been due rather to his careless, happy-go-lucky nature than to vicious inclination. He had knocked policemen down and painted the town blue, but he had been a gentleman through it all. The policemen always seemed to feel that, apart from the apologies and sovereigns he had subsequently applied to their bruises as healing balm of a practical kind.

The matter with Jim had been--until a few months since--that he had always had too liberal a supply of pocket money to draw upon down at Threeways. Consequently, unscrupulous fellow-students had borrowed from him and never troubled to repay him; consequently, it was always Jim who stood treat; consequently, he had got into disgrace and earned the penalty of banishment.

Such were Koko's sad reflections as he sat by the sick-bed. Presently he looked at his watch, and discovered that he had just forty minutes in which to get his bag from his rooms in the Adelphi, and then catch a north-going express. For that night he was due to referee at a glove fight, at Gateshead, between Micky Brown, the Northumberland middle-weight champion, and Jake Morris, of Bethnal Green. He had also to wire a half-column report of the fight to the _Sporting Mail_.

So he had, perforce, to leave Jim, not knowing whether he would ever see him alive again. For Trefusis had said that the forty-eight hours following Mortimer's return to consciousness would decide his fate.

Jim was still dozing. One of his hands lay limply on the coverlet of the bed. Koko laid his right hand upon it and gazed at the white face and the boyish, close-clipped head in its snowy bandages.

"Good-bye, Jim!" he murmured, and went softly round to the door. He expected the nurse back about this time. If she had not come in he would have to ask Miss Bird to sit with Jim, as Miss Bird had already taken turns with Koko, Mr Maybury, and the trained nurse in sick-room duty.

Koko was looking back for the last time at the still form of his friend, the sadness of his heart showing very visibly in his face, when the handle was turned and the trained nurse came in, fresh and rosy from her ride in the keen air. She was a bonny Scotswoman--quite a little thing--with blue eyes and flaxen hair.

"Are you going so soon, Mr Somers?" she said.

"Yes, I haven't a moment to lose. I have to catch a train for Newcastle."