Grey Town Part 16

CHAPTER IX.

DAYS OF STORM AND STRESS.

It was during breakfast at "Layton" that Kathleen O'Connor attacked Denis Quirk on the subject of his treatment of Desmond. Mrs. Quirk was breakfasting in bed; her husband had scrambled through his meal, and rushed out to superintend the making of a drain, leaving Denis alone with the girl. He had noticed her silence and aloofness, sure signs of displeasure, and, as was his way, he calmly faced her in the moment of bitter resentment.

"You are angry with me?" he asked abruptly.

"Why should I be? I have no claims upon your kindness," she answered.

"He had to go, for his own sake," he said, going straight to the point without explanation. "It was the only hope of saving him."

She did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears, vainly though she tried to repress them. Denis Quirk feigned not to see them.

"In Grey Town he must be ruined," he said, not unkindly.

"And what will he do alone in a great city, with no one to advise him?"

she cried.

"Fight it out and win, if he is made of the stuff I believe to be in him. He had enemies here who were ruining him, body and soul."

"He had one friend at least in Mr. Gerard," she said.

"We had better not discuss Gerard," he replied, rising quietly.

"Mr. Gerard has told me----," she began.

"Never believe a hostile witness until he has safely stood the fire of cross-examination," he remarked, oracularly.

"Oh, it was cruel not to give the boy just one chance!" she cried. "My heart is breaking for him!"

Therewith she rose and left the room. Denis took out his pipe and filled it. Then he went to "The Mercury" office, smoking thoughtfully. The first person to meet him on his arrival was John Gerard.

"What do you want with me?" asked Denis Quirk, abruptly.

"Just to hand in my resignation. I have other schemes on hand, and cannot find the necessary time to your work," replied Gerard.

Denis Quirk noted the absence of the customary suavity and deference in the way in which Gerard addressed him.

"Right you are! Come to me in five minutes for your cheque. You have saved yourself dismissal," he said.

"Are you dismissing the whole staff?" asked Gerard.

"Only the useless ones," replied Denis quietly, as he entered the room.

"Your cheque--and the door, you durned skunk!" he said, five minutes later. Gerard was on the point of retorting furiously, but one look at the strong, ugly face and st.u.r.dy figure convinced him of the wisdom of silence until he was actually on the doorstep of the office. Then he said:

"You will have to deal with me yet, Mr. Denis Quirk."

"I am quite capable of doing that," replied Denis, smilingly.

Thus did "The Mercury" lose its first sporting editor.

In the quiet of his office Denis Quirk sat for fully five minutes thinking, a most unusual thing for him to do, and, more unusual still, thinking of a woman. He checked himself abruptly with the half-muttered words:

"Well, she must battle through alone: I can't help her."

Then he began to write a letter to a friend in Melbourne:

"'The Mercury,' Grey Town.

"January 17, 19--.

"Dear Jackson,--There is a young fellow now in Melbourne, one Desmond O'Connor, a wild, harum-scarum, but of good stuff. You will find him at Mrs. Tippett's, 102 The Grove, Upper Hawthorn. Look him up, if you still love me, and take him under your care. Find him a place in your office; he has the necessary qualifications. He is a journalist, but I foresee ruin in that line for Desmond. Supply his immediate needs, and draw upon me, but invent some pious fiction to account for the capital--a dead maiden aunt or any other apocryphal person you like. If he thinks that the money comes from me, ten to one he will have none of it. Make him keep himself as far as possible by his own brains, and never offer the boy whisky. If you do this for me, I shall recognise that you are the same good old Jackson, whom I am proud to call a friend.--Yours sincerely,

"DENIS QUIRK."

As he closed the note and handed it to Tim O'Neill, Molly Healy entered the office. Like Kathleen O'Connor, she resented Denis Quirk's treatment of Desmond, and she had come to express her sentiments openly.

"Are you busy?" she asked.

"Not more so than usual; a pile of advertis.e.m.e.nts and correspondence, a few proofs to glance at, and a council committee at ten. I can spare you five minutes," he answered.

"I have not come to talk gently to you," said Molly. "I think you should be ashamed of yourself for your treatment of Desmond O'Connor."

"Now, Miss Molly, have you considered this question carefully? Just sit down for five minutes, and hear me explain it to you."

Molly Healy took a chair reluctantly, her face expressing a determination not to be convinced.

"Desmond O'Connor," he said, and all the while he was stamping and closing envelopes, "came under the influence of a man----."

"Gerard!" she cried, interrupting him.

"John Gerard. If he had remained here that influence must have ruined him."

"And could you not separate the two?" she asked.

"Not I, nor you; not even Father Healy. Desmond was gambling, he was beginning to drink; he would have degenerated into an habitual drunkard----."

"I as much as told him that myself," said Molly Healy.

"Outside there," he pointed to the window towards the east, "in Melbourne, lies the boy's chance. It was not for my sake I sent him packing. That boy was useful to me, and I can never replace him; but better 'The Mercury' should suffer than he and Kathleen O'Connor."

"Well, you're not a bad sort of man," she remarked. "Your heart's better than your face."