Thereafter, watching his friend closely, Koko observed a gradual change overcoming Jim. Often enough Jim’s merry smile flashed up, ’tis true, but when it died away the normal expression it left on his face was not quite what it had been of yore. There was a wistfulness in Jim’s eyes nowadays that Koko had never seen there before. This change made clear to Koko the fact that Jim’s medical student cubbishness had largely taken wing. Jim was no longer Fortune’s spoilt boy. The outline of his face was less round, his features were more distinctive, his chin seemed set in a firmer mould, and the soft lines about the corners of his mouth, though still apparent, were not so soft as they had been but a few months since. Koko was particularly struck by the alteration in Jim when, after a fortnight’s absence in the country, he looked the Long ’Un up at his surgery one evening in the latter part of November. Jim greeted his friend warmly, offered him a cigar, poked up the fire, and then, by way of avoiding more awkward topics, began to talk about his work. He had much of interest to relate of his daily rounds, and Koko, listening in the kind of way that is so helpful to a talker--that is to say, with unassumed appreciation--realised that Jim had indeed tackled a hard nut in the Mount Street district. For Jim had to go into such slums as your apple-faced peasant in the wide, wind-blown shires would not live in rent free. In these foul places herded scum from across the seas that gloried in its filth, and regarded decent quarters with positive repugnance. Jim had to make his way through crooked alleys into crime-infested courts--into courts where no policeman would go unaccompanied by a fellow. Jim went alone, however, trusting to luck and his two good fists to get out again in the event of his meeting a hostile gang of Hooligans. Jim told Koko of a squalid room he had that day been into which contained four separate families--each family occupying a corner. Koko smiled. "I suppose they don’t mind it?" he said. "Mind it!" cried Jim. "Why, they like it, man! Being a lot in a room keeps them warm. They’re company for each other. When number one family has a scrap with number two, three and four look on and applaud. Nice friendly arrangement--eh?" "Don’t some of these scraps turn out seriously?" "Sometimes. The fellow who showed me up to-day is known to have killed a man in a scrap--but he got off by some queer hitch in the evidence. A very civil spoken chap--burglar by profession." Koko opened his eyes. "A bit different from taking fees in Harley Street?" he said. "Not so remunerative, but more exciting," returned Jim. "The other day," he added, "I was attending a woman, when her husband came up with a crowbar and told me to stand aside, as he wanted to ’finish’ her." "What did you do?"