Suddenly Noddy turned, shook his fist, and disappeared into a dilapidated tenement house, which he was in front of at the time. With a cry, Jerry bounded forward. As he entered the hallway he bumped into a roughly dressed man, as he could see by the dim light of a lamp suspended at the rear end of the passage.
“Now, then, wot’s all this rush about?” demanded the man.
“I beg your pardon,” said Jerry, halting.
“Be you the doctor?” asked the man.
“The doctor? No. Why?”
“’Cause he’s took bad, an’ we’ve sent fer the doctor. I t’ought you was him.”
“Who’s sick?” inquired the boy, forgetting for the moment what had brought him to the place.
“He’s an old miner. I don’t know him, but he come to me, sick an’ dead broke, an’ I let him sleep in my room. He’s off his trolley, I guess, but he says his name is Jim Nestor.”
“Jim Nestor!” exclaimed Jerry. He remembered that was the name of the miner in the hut, whom Pender had robbed.
“That’s the name he gave.”