"Well, Mr Harris," said Jim, "I'm sorry you have been so unfortunate. But I must get on with my business. I want to open a surgery in this street, and I want you to tell me if there's a likely house about here for the purpose."
Mr Harris fixed his gaze eagerly on Jim's face, and as he did so his eyes lightened up with a great idea. What he wanted was a little ready money. Get that ready money he must, or his scheme would fail!
"Yes, doctor," he said, "I know a 'ouse. That pawnbroker friend of mine, 'e shut up 'is shop when 'e retired from business, and asked me to get a tenant for it. You shall 'ave it cheap, my dear sir. You can 'ack it about a bit, and it'll suit you fine. Come and see it--come on!"
In nervous haste the old man put on his coat and hat. "Come on, doctor," he said.
But young Isaac confronted his father at the shop door. "Vare vos you goin', mine fader?" he inquired.
"I vos goin' vith the doctor. If I oblige 'im 'e will attend us for nozzing, my son. Is that not good? Come on, doctor."
With this Mr Harris hastened past his son, and, accompanied by Jim, at length arrived at a dingy-looking shop, whose shutters bore sundry placards giving the world to understand that the place was "TO LET."
"There, doctor, that vill make you a peautiful surgery. But you shall see it."
When Jim had inspected the place he decided to take it.
"What's the rent?" he asked old Harris.