"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.