A third person, watching the two faces, would have noticed a shadow of disappointment fall across the little nurse’s pretty face. A third person--such as Miss Bird or Dora--would possibly have deducted a certain fact from this shadow. And a third person, watching Koko and Jim’s nurse clasp hands in bidding each other good-bye, would have smiled to herself and looked another way, for it would seem that the parting of these two was not without a touch of feeling which had nothing whatever platonic about it. Well, Koko caught his train, and ten hours later was the central figure of an almost indescribable inferno. For, as neither man had been knocked out in the twenty rounds to which the contest was limited, Koko, according to rule, had awarded the fight to the London man "on points." Whereupon had arisen such a hurricane of yells and oaths from the miners and shipwrights with which the hall was crammed, that a man with less pluck might well have been appalled. But the little bald-headed reporter from London stood his ground, and looked calmly upon the infuriated faces and forest of horny fists that surrounded the ring. "Jake Morris wins," he said again, during a lull in the storm, "_on points_." And again the miners--most of whom had money on the local pet--howled like wolves. The police inspector standing near Koko whispered a warning. "Go out by the extra exit," he said; "they won’t be looking for you there." Koko, without looking round, nodded, and, having made certain necessary entries in his note-book, took the inspector’s hint, and made such good time over the high level bridge into Newcastle that he was safe in the smoking-room of his hotel while a mass of drink-inflamed Northumbrians were still awaiting his appearance at the stage door. From the sick-room to this scene of unbridled brute passions--a change indeed! But Koko took it coolly, as part of the day’s work--sent off his report, snapped up some supper, and went to bed, and by eight next morning was speeding back to London and Jim, with a sixpenny novel--upside down on his knees. During these seven days, events had been treading quickly on each other’s heels. Harold Jefferson, knowing perfectly well that Mr Maybury thoroughly intended that he should be taken at his word with regard to the marriage, had not attempted to see Dora. As a matter of fact, he had entertained doubts for some time past with regard to Dora’s affection for himself, and her father’s unexpected call at the Albany that night had made it doubly plain to the young stockbroker that Dora Maybury, even though she might be prevailed upon eventually to marry him, was not likely ever to prove a very affectionate wife. So Jefferson, instead of putting on his wedding clothes, informed his best man (the only guest invited on his side) that the marriage had been postponed owing to an illness in Dora’s family, and that he (Jefferson) was off to Nice.