Just then footsteps were heard, and as the door opened Bill stood there. He was amazed on seeing the priest. It flashed on him that he was found out but he didn't want his mother to know. He made a sign to the priest to say nothing for the present. Father Boone understood it at once and was glad to see this consideration of the boy for his mother, although it didn't tell him how much Bill knew of the Club mystery.
Daly was a shrewd lad, and after his mother withdrew, he kept his composure. He had to find out first how much the priest knew. Was it just the fight he came to see about or the wreckage? And how could he handle it so that even if everything came out, Father Boone would not cause him the loss of the job he had got him? Bill decided to fence as cleverly as possible and not tell a bit more than he had to. The priest began.
"Well, William, I hope you are not ill. I've missed you from the Club the past few nights?"
"O, I'm all right," answered Bill.
"Have you any reason for staying away?" asked the priest. There was silence for a moment.
"He is fishing," thought Bill.
Father Boone looked him steadily in the eye and repeated, "I asked you, Willie, if there was any reason for your staying away?"
"Better ask Mulvy," Bill replied, with a grin.
Father Boone's heart sank. He wanted to clear Frank—and everybody else—but here was the secretary's name again. Bill's answer and his manner both implied that Frank was in the affair deeper than the director had even suspected.
"I hope," he said aloud, "I shall not be disappointed in you, William. No matter what has happened, I want you to continue in the Club." With that he took his departure. But as he left the house he reflected that if William Daly ever got away from his influence, he might go down hill fast. There was one thing that gave him hope, and that was the boy's love for his mother. He knew that a boy who was so fond of his mother had something to work on.