So this was Jim’s surgery! The old Doctor halted and stared at the shabby-looking corner building. This was where Jim had been getting his living since he had been barred from the old roof-tree in Eastfolk! [Illustration: SO THIS WAS JIM’S SURGERY] "Did he rent the entire building?" inquired Dr Mortimer. "Yes. It was a pawnbroker’s place before Jim took it." "Great heavens! And why did he allow these abominable placards to be pasted on his walls?" "The old chap who let him the place wanted some money, so Jim made him a present of the outside of the house for advertising purposes," explained Koko. The Doctor looked amazed. "Dear! dear! What a quixotic notion!" "Jim was always like that," said Koko. The old Doctor bit his lip and again frowned upon the posters. Filling the bill this week at the local theatre was a play in which a steam-roller was the principal attraction. A poster, cunningly attached to Jim’s wall, just where his red lamp would shine upon it after dusk, depicted the steam-roller descending a narrow hill at top speed, while directly in its track lay a young woman in evening dress, and apparently unconscious. The poster had attracted half the adult population of Mount Street to the theatre. "Now I come to think of it," said the Doctor, "I remember something of this kind was visible in the photograph of the place which James sent me at Christmas. It represented a man throwing another man--or a woman, possibly a woman--out of a balloon. I suppose these dreadful pictures are changed every week?" "Yes, something fresh every Monday," said Koko. "Dear, dear me! To think of it!" "It didn’t matter to Jim," put in Koko; "he was rather amused by the posters." "And who was the man who prevailed upon James to part with his walls in this philanthropic manner?" inquired the Doctor. "A provision dealer called Harris." At that moment Koko felt a touch on his arm, and wheeled round to find old Harris himself at his elbow. "Mr Somers, sir, seeing you standin’ ’ere, I’ve come to ask after the doctor. All Mount Street wants to know ’ow ’e is. Is he like to die?" "There is hope, but not much. You know yourself how badly he was knocked about." "Yes, I know that. Yes, and I pretty near screwed that ’unchback’s ’ead orf, so ’elp me!" returned the provision dealer, with a savage chuckle. "Are you the man mentioned in the newspapers as having fetched the police?" Dr Mortimer demanded of Mr Harris.