"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."