JOHN GERARD.
Cairns and Denis Quirk were working post haste in "The Mercury" office.
"We must make 'The Mercury' a go-ahead, up-to-date paper," said Cairns.
"That's it, my man," replied Denis Quirk.
"We want to consider our readers' amusements," said Cairns.
"Tickle them, and make them laugh, and they will put their arms round
the old 'Mercury's' neck and love her," cried Denis.
"Racing is the first and most important amusement in Australia. You need
a sporting editor."
"Good old Cairns! With you and Tim O'Neill I have the finest stuff in
Victoria. A sporting editor you shall have, sonny. What about Desmond
O'Connor?"
Cairns shook his head doubtfully.
"Couldn't stand it," he answered. "He's too fond of Dame Chance already,
and inclined to be one of the good-natured 'have-a-drink-with-me' crowd.
Desmond needs watching."
"I'll tell you what he wants--to get right away from here, and fight the
world alone," said Denis.
"You and I," cried Cairns, "are the men to found a new party with a new
Australian policy. Mere parochialism must go, sir, if Australia is to
have a destiny. I have my eye upon Desmond as a disciple."
"Don't hurry, Cairns. Reform Grey Town first, then turn your mind to
Australia. There is plenty to be done here. Have you prepared that
article on the municipal omissions?"
Cairns handed a proof to Denis Quirk, and the latter ran his eye over
it.
"Good!" he cried, approvingly. "Slash it into them! 'Too much of a hole
and corner system.' 'Too many surprises sprung upon a too-confiding
public.' That's the way to make things hum. I must give Wilde a retainer
to defend us in our libel actions. I see them coming, Cairns. To-morrow
rake it into Ebenezer Brown for the state of his premises in Chester
Street; on Saturday draw attention to the insanitary condition of the
best residential part of the town. Keep things moving, and we will make
Grey Town a live community. Then we will turn our attention to
Australia."
Now, the first sporting editor of "The Mercury" was a handsome man,
clean-shaven and well-dressed, who presented himself to Denis Quirk in
answer to an advertisement in a Melbourne paper.
"Mr. James Gerard," read Cairns from the card that Tim O'Neill handed to
him that morning. "Have you any idea who Mr. Gerard is?"
"He says he's 'Trafalgar,' sir; not the battle, sir, but the horse. I
fancy he's dotty, Mr. Cairns; he looks more like a donkey than a horse."
"Show him in to Mr. Quirk; I have no time for lunatics," said Cairns.
Mr. James Gerard was accordingly shown into the managers' room. Denis
Quirk was at the moment preparing a speech, for he had already decided
to contest a vacancy on the council. He received his visitor abruptly.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I am 'Trafalgar;' perhaps you have heard of me," said the newcomer.
"Never!" replied Denis.
"Hem! I thought you might have seen my nom de plume in the 'Sporting
Chronicle.'"
"Never heard of it. What do you want?"
"You advertised for a sporting editor. I have come after the place."
"Do you know anything about horses?" asked Denis.
"No one better; I have studied them all my life," replied Gerard.
"That doesn't say you can write about them. How much do you ask?"
"Salary is no object to me. Racing is my hobby. I have an income of my
own, and I write as an employment and a pleasure."
"If you come to me you will have to accept a salary, much as it may pain
you. You will be a servant, and do exactly as I ask. Are you prepared
for that?" said the manager.
"Naturally! Why would I be here if I were not prepared for that?"
"Very well, then. You will begin at £4 a week, to be increased if you
suit us; if you don't suit, out you go. When are you prepared to begin?"
"To-day, if you like."
"To-morrow you can go to Melton and report the meeting. See that you are
spicy; we expect spice on this paper."
"Trafalgar's" first report did not satisfy the manager.
"See here, Mr. Gerard," he said, entering the outer office, where
"Trafalgar" was already fraternising with Desmond O'Connor, "'The
Mercury' is out to put down fraud and hypocrisy wherever it is to be
found. I sent you to Melton to draw public attention to irregularities.
Why did Caprice run last in the Melton Cup?"
"Not quite fit," replied the sporting editor glibly. "I was talking to
Carter----."
"Talking to her trainer and asking his opinion! That's not what we want
here. Last week Caprice started at 6 to 4 on and won the Welter Handicap
at Balnogan; yesterday she was quoted at 5 to 1, and ran last in the
Melton Cup. Sit down and mention those two facts together, leaving the
readers to draw their own deductions, as I do."
"Are you looking for libel actions?" asked "Trafalgar," innocently.
"Not looking for them, but quite prepared for them in a just cause. Did
you read my speech last night?"
"I have not found time," stammered the sporting editor, while Desmond
O'Connor sat listening with a broad smile on his face.
"Oblige me by reading it. It represents my policy, and the policy of
this paper. We call a spade a spade on 'The Mercury.' Just read that
speech, and then sit down and write about Caprice. You can mention the
running of Bailiff in the Hurdles at the same time. If the stewards
won't do their duty, 'The Mercury' will point it out to them."
In this manner was Gerard introduced to the policy of Denis Quirk and
his paper. He was, however, a smart man, quite capable of grasping a
situation when it was demonstrated to him. In a few weeks' time the
clever division began to read the accounts of their acts of brigandage
with fear and trembling; obsequious stewards became more alert, and less
timid in dealing with glaring acts of fraud, while threats were openly
indulged in, and actions for libel suggested. But Denis Quirk and his
paper went on their prescribed course, regardless of threats, and
awaiting libel actions that failed to come.
There was no lack of excitement in Grey Town in those days. Men did not
go about wearily, and sigh because there was nothing in the papers.
There were times of stress and battle in the town when Denis Quirk and
"The Mercury" fought with sloth, indifference, and vested interests;
times when he was rarely at home with the old people, because he had
many and important things to do, to say, and to write about in the town.
But Gerard dropped quietly into a position of family friend and
confidential adviser at "Layton." He was introduced by Denis Quirk, and,
being a man of comparative leisure, it became his habit to spend a part
of his leisure at the house, and to accompany Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen
O'Connor when they went out to find amusement. To this Denis Quirk
readily assented, for he was more at ease among the men and women who
worked than among those who played. Desmond O'Connor, too, was
shouldering the burden of stern responsibility, and someone had to look
after Mrs. Quirk and Kathleen. Who could better do this than Gerard, a
harmless and pleasant man in Denis Quirk's eyes?
This was the first male friendship of Kathleen O'Connor. Here was a man
who told her the history of his lifetime, not discursively, but in
fragments dropped here and there. There is pleasure, entertainment, and
pathos in every man's life, no matter who he may be. Gerard had lived
more adventurously than many others. He was a man who could make love
charmingly, one who had been liberally educated. There were many
pleasing reminiscences, many sad incidents in his past, and he had a
happy method of speaking of such events.
This is the manner in which love sometimes comes to man and woman, not,
as it is often pictured, as a sudden passion, but slowly and in stages.
Gerard loved easily and lightly; he had already had his grand passions,
and the current of his life ran none the less pleasantly because of
them. To make love to a pretty girl was nothing to him, merely another
passing incident. But a man was an event to Kathleen O'Connor, an
admirer something hitherto unknown. She had laughed and flirted with
boyish admirers, as girls do; but such events are mere ripples on the
surface of passion. The love and admiration of a man are to such things
a vast upheaval of the depths of the ocean.
There was at this time one person who cordially disliked Gerard,
probably the only one in Grey Town. This was Molly Healy, and she had
great difficulty to find a reason for her antipathy to the sporting
editor of "The Mercury." After her first meeting with Gerard, she
expressed her sentiments to Kathleen O'Connor unreservedly, as was her
way.
"I couldn't bear to have that man near me," she said.
Kathleen was, in those days, perfectly unbiassed in her opinion of
Gerard. He was to her merely a new acquaintance, but she found him
pleasant and well-informed. Laughingly, she asked:
"Why not?"
"He is too spick and span for me," said Molly, "and altogether too
smiling. He has got no soul."
These sentiments she cherished doggedly, and expressed on every
occasion, to his face and behind his back. As the romance began to take
possession of Kathleen, she found it hard not to resent Molly's
criticism. Mrs. Quirk went so far as to scold Molly relentlessly for her
expressions of dislike, but the girl only laughed at her:
"Sure, you are too young and innocent. You don't know the wickedness
there is in the world. But I have been taking lessons from every
guttersnipe and old good-for-nought in the town. There's wickedness in
Gerard's eye, and in his nose too."
Desmond O'Connor was a particular friend of his brother scribe, but the
acquaintance was not for the boy's good. Gerard taught him to drink more
than he should, and to gamble for money that he could not afford to
lose. While these facts were unknown in the semi-retirement of "Layton,"
they speedily came to Molly Healy's ears. She acted with a customary
impulse that was imprudent with such a nature as Desmond O'Connor's. One
morning on his way to "The Mercury" office he was stopped by Molly.
"Desmond," she said, "what is this I am hearing of you?"
Desmond met her laughingly, for he seldom took Molly Healy seriously.
"Something wonderful?" he said.
"Something you should be ashamed of! Look there at old Mason."
She pointed to where an old man was crossing the road, a dilapidated
wreck of humanity, for Mason was the champion drunkard of Grey Town.
"It is such an old man as that you will become," said Molly.
Desmond flushed crimson at her words, and he turned in repressed fury on
her.
"Mind your own business," he said. "Reform your old age pensioners, and
kindly allow me to look after myself."
Therewith he went on his way, leaving her to look after him with tears
in her eyes.
"Wouldn't I give my life for Desmond!" she thought, as she watched him
until he turned a corner. For his part, indignation overcame every other
feeling. He was sufficiently young to resent interference, and to forget
for the moment the bonds of friendship that bound him to Molly Healy.
Turning to climb upwards to the Presbytery, the girl met Denis Quirk.
Like Kathleen O'Connor, Molly Healy was not quite sure how she regarded
the manager of "The Mercury." He was always brusque and unapproachable,
yet she infinitely preferred his attitude to the polish of Gerard.
"Looking at Desmond?" he laughed.
"And why not? Isn't it a pleasure to look at a handsome man?" she
answered.
"I hope you gave him a good talking to. My mother says that Molly Healy
is the one that can do that," he said.
"Wait until you are standing for Parliament, and then you will see what
Molly Healy can do," she replied. "But you should look after that boy,
or he will get into mischief so deep that there will be no getting him
out."
"I have an eye on him, never fear," he said, and left her abruptly, to
her infinite amusement.
"Denis Quirk has no manners, but he doesn't mean any harm," she told her
brother. "It is only his way; a hard crust, but a good wholesome crumb."
That very morning Denis Quirk summoned Desmond into his room.
"See here," he said, "we are not teetotal on this paper, but we know
where to stop. It's time you stopped. Make a note of that."
"Perhaps I had better go," cried Desmond in a passion.
"I don't actually say that, for there's good stuff in you, but if you
can't behave, you can't go too soon," said Denis.
Cairns was standing near the door, and he heard these exchanges. He had
a very kindly feeling for Desmond, and when the reporter came from Denis
Quirk's room Cairns drew him into his own.
"Quirk is blunt, but he is true," he said. "He sees that you are going
the way of many another real good fellow, and he wants to pull you up
short. Don't ruin a promising life, Desmond. Give Gerard a wide berth;
he's a bad companion for a man like you."
"Gerard is a good fellow. What have you against him?" cried Desmond.
"He is altogether too good a fellow for a penniless reporter that has a
place to win in the world," said Cairns.
"He is the only white man in Grey Town!" said Desmond.
Remonstrance was thrown away on the boy. One night he staggered into the
office in a half-drunken condition, and the following day he disappeared
into the dark oblivion that we term "the world," taking with him a
letter of recommendation from Cairns to the editor of a metropolitan
paper.
"I recommend you for your talent, not for your bad habits. See that you
cure them, or Smythe will shoot you out as Quirk has done," said Cairns.
But he gave the boy five pounds to help him while he was looking for
work.
Desmond O'Connor was the first victim to the friendship of John Gerard.
There were other young men who owed their downfall to him, not that he
bore any one of his victims malice; he was merely a man with a full
purse, and a lover of good-fellowship. "Let the young beggars look after
themselves. All that I ask is good company. It is not my place to teach
men morals," he said to one who remonstrated with him.
In the same spirit he continued to court Kathleen O'Connor, enjoying
placidly the game of love, and perfectly regardless as to the result.