Jim laughed. "That's all right--shows there's somebody at the front door. You see there's a bell, but my callers don't always use it. Some of them like to walk in, as the door opens when you turn the handle. I've fixed up an arrangement of string, therefore, which causes that old geezer to fall down when the front door is opened. Quite simple. I'll show you the dodge in a minute."
Whilst he had been speaking, Jim had popped the prussic acid jar on its shelf, and opened the door communicating with the waiting-room.
"Ah, Mr Harris! Good evening! Come in!"
The old provision dealer--for it was he--walked into the surgery. Koko made as if he would withdraw, but Jim motioned to him to stop.
"I'm pretty near done, doctor," said Mr Harris, sinking wearily into a chair; "my 'ead feels as if my 'air was bein' brushed more than ever. And that velp--'e's gettin' more a caution every day. 'E tumbled to my game, and marked the wrong 'orses for me to back--and my money's all gone. Yes, vot vith 'im and my 'ealth, I vish I vos dead."
"You don't get enough fresh air, Mr Harris," said Jim.
"Fresh air!" cried the old man; "no, not a mouthful. Not likely. That boy--that son of mine--Isaac--'e's a 'eartless young 'ound. Keeps 'is old father vorkin' and vorkin' from seven in the mornin' till ten at night. Fresh air! Vy, I falls asleep in my chair ven I've locked up the shop!"
Koko and Jim looked sympathetic, but made no comment.
"Now 'e's boss," proceeded the old dealer--"now 'e's 'Arris, and I'm only the Father, there's no end to the airs he gives 'isself. Wears a red veskit and a big chain and a norty turn-down collar like vot the swells vear, and a check soot vich 'e got second-'and from a bookmaker. There's no 'oldin' 'im!" declared Mr Harris, with a groan.
He paused a moment to wag his head sorrowfully, and then again took up the tale of his woes.