’"E’s done for now, and it doesn’t matter to ’im. I’ll ’ave my share, or know the reason why." "You’ll split on us?" "Yes, on the ’ole lot of yer! I don’t join in a dirty job like this for love. I’ve a baby to keep at ’ome, and I want money, so you watch it!" The bandaged man winked at his fellows. "That’ll be orl right," he said. "It’s on’y ’er wye. Well, let’s get out o’ this, boys." As the others moved towards the door the bandaged man and the girl stayed by Jim’s side. As the former gazed upon the prostrate and silent figure, an evil smile distorted his countenance. "We’re quits now," he muttered, shaking his fist at the white face, "you an’ me. You ’urt me, and now I’ve ’urt you." A twinge in the wound which he had come by through Jim’s agency made him wince. He uttered an appalling oath. "No, we ain’t quite quits! I’ll spoil your beauty for you, to end with, my pretty doctor." He raised his iron-shod heel above Jim’s face, but ere the foot could descend the flower-girl pushed the Hooligan aside with such force that he reeled against the wall. "Leave ’im alone--ain’t you satisfied?" she exclaimed sharply. The man recovered himself with another oath, and smacked the girl across the face with his open hand. "That’s for you, you interferin’ cat!" With a snarl worthy of the creature she had been likened to, the girl hurled herself at her aggressor, and clawed his face with venomous finger-nails. In the struggle the Hooligan’s bandage came off, revealing an unhealed wound. Crying out with pain, the rough threw the girl off with all his might, and, turning quickly, was hacking at Jim’s head and body, when the girl, regaining her balance, flung herself across the motionless figure on the floor, and there remained while the Hooligan kicked and struck both at herself and Jim with ungovernable fury. Time and again he tried to drag her away, but she held staunch to her post in spite of his blows and execrations. By this time the Hooligan had worked himself into a state of frenzy. Seeing that he could not get the girl away, he drew a knife from his belt, but, even as he poised it to strike, the door was kicked open and a man appeared. Then a voice rang out commandingly; George Somers--for Koko it was--had never spoken so in his life before. "Drop that knife or I fire." With the howl of a maddened animal the Hooligan sprang to his feet and bounded forward. The blade flashed ominously in the lamplight. As it swept downwards towards Koko’s heart, there was a sharp report, followed by a shriek from the Hooligan, who swayed, clutching at the air, and then toppled forward in a heap, shot through the brain.