About eleven the next morning Dr Mortimer arrived at No. 9, and was ushered up to Jim's bedroom. A brief examination told him that his grandson was very far gone indeed, and so without delay he drove to Harley Street and alighted at the door of Trefusis, the first authority on spine trouble. Dr Trefusis promised to proceed to Derby Crescent immediately. A few doors lower down lived Sir Savile Smart. Dr Mortimer was so fortunate as to find him in.
"Smart, I want you to come and look at my boy."
"The Hooligans have been at him. I want you to meet Trefusis and give an opinion. Brain and spine injuries. You'll come?"
"My shoulder hurts; but I'll come with pleasure."
By one o'clock Jim had been examined by the two great surgeons. During the process they both looked grave, but at the end of it Sir Savile drew a deep breath of relief.
"He's a tough young dog. We shall pull him through, Trefusis?"
"We may. He'll be unconscious for a week. When he comes round we shall be able to tell better."
Then the specialist turned to Dr Mortimer.
"I will do my best for your boy, sir. He may live. I cannot say with certainty. A great deal depends on the nursing. I'll come to-morrow. Good-day.
Soon after the two surgeons had driven off, Koko arrived at No. 9. He had satisfied the magistrate that he had shot the Hooligan because his own life was threatened, and had subsequently given some solid evidence against the six prisoners, all of whom were committed for trial. Koko, however, had still to attend the inquest on the dead Hooligan, to be held two days later, and exonerate himself from all blame.
Mr Maybury introduced Koko to Dr Mortimer.
"This is your grandson's great friend--Mr Somers."
"I thought your name was Coke," said the old Doctor.
"Jim calls me Koko because I am rather bald," explained Somers, meekly.
"Yes, I read about that in the paper. Will you shake hands with me again? ... and now please take me round to my boy's surgery. I've only seen a photograph of it up to the present."
Side by side the wealthy Eastfolk doctor and the little sporting reporter walked out of Derby Crescent into the bustling Blackfriars Road, and presently wheeled out of that thoroughfare into Mount Street.
"What a detestable district!" exclaimed Dr Mortimer as they were passing the Nathans' fried fish shop, from which proceeded a by no means delectable odour of hissing horse fat.