"I believe you are. Well, go and try it. Taplow's out of town, and has asked me to put somebody in temporarily. I will put you in. Any morbid objections to sleeping in your predecessor's bedroom?"
"None at all," said Jim.
"Right! You had better go to the place where he lodged, then. The surgery has no living rooms attached to it--it's just a surgery and waiting-room. When we get to Harley Street I'll give you full particulars. Quite sure you don't mind going?"
"Quite," replied Jim.
"I do like a man that knows his own mind," said the specialist in a tone of approval. "You needn't stay there for ever, you know--you're too good for that sort of work."
Jim blushed again.
"Still, it'll tide you over the present difficulty. That's the point. Ah, yes--and I must also give you the address of the place where you're to lodge. Better send them a wire. House is about ten minutes' walk from the surgery; people are gentlefolk, I believe--family--come down in the world. I remember Taplow speaking of them to me--knows something of them, and recommended his man there. One of the daughters is a post-office clerk--very pretty--that'll suit you, eh?"
"I intend to devote myself entirely to work in future, sir," said Jim.
"Ah, yes! Quite so--quite so!" said the specialist chuckling. "Let's see, yes--I recollect--the name is--er--Marcombe--Mayflower--Maybury--that's it."
Jim uttered an exclamation.