"You shall have a priest!" cried Denis.

But Desmond relapsed into a half sleep, broken by a rambling delirium,
like to a fragmentary nightmare. The word had been spoken, and when
Denis Quirk had called the nurse and left her in charge, he hastened to
the nearest telephone exchange and sent the long-delayed message to
Father Healy. In half an hour's time the big motor car from the Grey
Town garage was starting on the long journey to Melbourne.

Through the evening and night the good priest sat silently beside the
chauffeur, but his lips were moving constantly, his fingers passing the
rosary beads as he prayed for the boy he loved. The chauffeur, who knew
him well, had never found the priest so self-absorbed. As a general
rule, Father Healy made the longest journey short; to-night he could
only pray silently. For he had seen Desmond grow up from infancy to
manhood, and had prepared him for the Sacraments. His downfall had been
a calamity; his return to the Faith would mean a triumph over the powers
of evil. Thus did the car rush through the night, its bright headlights
picking out the road in front of it; blackness around; the horn now
sounding its deep note as they dashed past a township, while Father
Healy was praying for the sick man in Melbourne.

It was three o'clock in the morning when the car entered the sleeping
city, where darkness and quiet held possession. Here and there a light
shone from a window, telling its tale of sickness; now and again they
passed a night wanderer or policeman; but Melbourne lay in placid
sleep, reinvigorating itself for the busy day.

In the flat Denis Quirk was sitting in an armchair anxiously expecting
the sound of the motor. His quick ears heard it as it came up Collins
Street, and he was at the door to admit Father Healy.

"I suppose you are tired and hungry?" he asked.

"Neither," the priest replied. "But my friend here has had a long drive.
He would appreciate a cup of tea--eh, Jack?"

"No thank you, Father. I will take the car to the garage, and get to
bed," the chauffeur answered. Therewith he started post haste for the
garage and bed.

"How is Desmond?" Father Healy asked anxiously.

"At his very worst, the doctor tells me. If he comes through the next
few days there is hope; at present it might go either way," Desmond
answered.

"Can I see him?"

"I will ask the nurse," said Denis. "We do nothing without consulting
her. Sit down and eat while I find her. Ah! here