The Hooligan was not without some regard for his personal well-being. Directing a scowl of hate at Jim, he put on his belt again and left the shop, followed by the girl. "Same old game?" said one of the constables to Mr Harris. "I didn’t see it all--but I believe this gentleman knocked ’im down," replied Mr Harris. "’E’s the noo doctor over the road." The policeman eyed Jim with interest. "I’d advise you to be careful, sir," he said; "that’s the most dangerous man in these parts. He’s just done six months, and only came out three days ago. We’ve been keeping an eye on him." "I’ll look out--never fear," said Jim. For some hours after that Jim was very busy, but even in the midst of his work he seemed to see the white, pleading face of the Hooligan’s girl-wife. No doubt she loved the brute--no doubt she had been endeavouring to keep him in a good temper ever since he had come out of prison. And the man, smarting from his recent confinement, sulky, and conscious of his bull-like strength, had probably been thirsting for a quarrel all these three days. Then Jim’s sharp speech fell on his ear, and the Hooligan wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to sharply by anybody save a policeman. He had wheeled round fiercely, and had hardly had time to take stock of the person addressing him before he was floored. He had never received such quick treatment before in his life. "Still," thought Jim, "I wouldn’t have hit him had I known his wife was there. At any rate, I’d have let him hit me first." Jim got some tea at a shop in Blackfriars Road, and was fully employed making up medicine at the surgery until it was dusk, and the street lamps were shining yellow. Then he bethought him of Derby Crescent and dinner. He was tidying up the surgery preparatory to taking his leave of the place for the day, when there came a short, peremptory knock on the street door, which he had previously closed. Jim heard a murmur of voices without. A woman, it seemed, was remonstrating with a man. Jim went to the door and opened it. There, awaiting him, was the Hooligan; a little farther off stood the latter’s slip of a wife. "Well?" said Jim, curtly. Even as he spoke the girl gave the alarm: "Look out, sir--he’s got his belt off!" But the Hooligan was too quick, and the heavy buckle of the belt came crash on to Jim’s head, just above the brow, ere the woman’s warning was finished. It was a frightful blow, and extracted a cry of pain from Jim. One cry, and then Jim sprang forward, dodged the belt swinging at his head again, and closed with the Hooligan. The two forms fell with a crash--Jim on top. In a second he was kneeling on the ruffian, his hands upon the other’s throat. "Oh, sir--oh, sir!--don’t give him in charge! Oh, sir--he shan’t do it again!--please don’t give him in charge!" It was a piteous appeal, and Jim, hearing, rose to his feet. "All right--take him away!" Jim’s head was swimming, and the blood was trickling over his face.