Of a sudden, a pebble crashed through the waiting-room window. Jim started to his feet, hurried into the passage, and threw open the front door. Mount Street was the picture of desolation; a light, clammy rain was descending steadily, and the pavements were deserted. One figure, however, was plainly visible by the lamp-post on the opposite pavement--that of a man with his head bound up.
In a flash Jim recognised him as one of the gang that had assaulted him in Pine Court--this was the man, indeed, whom he had knocked down early in the proceedings.
Instantly on making this discovery Jim strode across the road. As quickly the man vanished down an alley. Jim, reaching the entrance to the alley, hesitated. Might not this fellow be acting as a decoy?
Jim had learnt prudence. Slowly he turned on his heel and went back to the surgery. Closing the street door, he resumed his chair by the fire, and in a narrow street just off the alley a group of Hooligans, baffled again, uttered curses of disappointment as they slowly dispersed about their bad business.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE IVORY FAN.
"In my opinion," quoth Miss Bird, looking up from her embroidery (she was making Dora a table-centre for a wedding present), "girls have too many dresses. When I was your age, my dear, I had two dresses--one for everyday and the other for Sundays. They were both black. In those days girls were taught to be contented with a few clothes, and to make them last a very long time!"
"How long did you have to make your best dress last?" asked Dora.
"Five years," said Miss Bird.
"Just fancy!" cried Dora. "Why, it must have been green by that time."