"Boys," he said, "Daly is in a critical condition. The doctors hold out little hope. Tomorrow I shall say Mass for him. I hope you boys will also remember him in your prayers."
"We are all going to Communion for him tomorrow, Father," said Ned.
"O, that's good," answered the priest. "That's very good of you. God knows what is best. His holy Will be done, but we shall pray that if it is God's Will, he may be spared."
"Was he conscious?" anxiously asked Frank.
"No," answered the priest, "I have been watching him carefully the past two days, but so far he has not got out of his delirium." Frank had a return, suddenly, of that faint feeling. True, the Club damage was in the background now, in the presence of death, but it was only deferred, not settled. And what would happen if the secret died with Daly?
Frank was extremely conscientious. He was not counting on what he could lawfully do in case Daly should die. He was determined that if worse came to worst he would bear the brunt of the disgrace himself rather than say a word that would blacken the name of one who had passed away. He must not flinch. He must be a real Knight of the Cross.
Frank left the Club much earlier than usual and alone. Something seemed to draw him to the hospital. At any rate, after five minutes, he found himself on the avenue going down to where Bill Daly lay in delirium. He got permission at the office to visit him. When he reached the patient, he found Mr. and Mrs. Daly there. Mrs. Daly welcomed him and introduced him to Mr. Daly as "that nice boy I told you about."
"And you are Willie's friend?" said Mr. Daly.
"Yes, I am glad to say."
"O, he was the good boy," continued Bill's father. "He should have had a better chance!"