"Yes, I’m the man," was the answer--"I fetched ’em. You see, last night I goes into Dr Mortimer’s surgery and svallows vot I took for prussic acid. Yes, ’arf a pint. And vile I vos vaitin’ for the end, I fell asleep, and ven I vakes the doctor vos standin’ by me. Vell, ’e tells me it vosn’t p’ison, and then ’e goes orf to Pine Court. Vell, just after, in comes Mr Somers, and says ’e: ’Vare is the doctor?’ an’ I says: ’’E’s gone to vare it mentions in that bit of paper.’ ’Pine Court,’ says Mr Somers. ’Mrs Murphy’s.’ ’Mrs Murphy don’t live in Pine Court,’ says I. ’I knows all the people in these courts.’ Mr Somers ’e looks startled, and reads the note again. ’This looks fishy, ’Arris,’ he says; ’this writin’s in a disguised ’and.’ I gets up and looks at the note, and I sees at once it vos my son Isaac’s ’andwritin’----" "Your son’s!" exclaimed Dr Mortimer. "Do the police know that?" "They don’t," replied Mr Harris; "and for vy? Vy, for becos I says to Mr Somers: ’This is a trap,’ I says, ’and ve’ll be after the doctor and save ’im. But I’ll ’elp you on one condition only.’ ’Vot’s that?’ says Mr Somers, sharp like. ’That you don’t split on Isaac! You agree to that, an’ I’ll lend you this revolver!’ I vos goin’ to shoot myself at first, you see, sir, an’ then I thought p’ison vould be cleaner. ’Agreed,’ says Mr Somers, and off ve goes, I to fetch the police and Mr Somers straight for Pine Court, vith the loaded revolver in ’is pocket." "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.