“The bathroom!” Bat said in a low voice. He scraped back his chair and rose to his feet. With the haste of premonition, Father Mahon remembered the cry, the bathroom window ajar, the stir of the curtain. He hurried up the stairs to find Bat already knocking on the door. They waited a moment; then Bat seized the knob and rattled it. “Father Conroy,” he called, nervously formal, then, “Tom!” He threw a single scared glance over his shoulder at Father Mahon. “Tom, d’ye hear me?” And almost at once, he swung his heavy shoulder at the door. It gave way at the second blow, the bolt splintering away from the jamb so easily that Bat stumbled forward into the room, fighting to keep his balance. He went down on his knees at once. Over his shoulder, Father Mahon could see a length of black trouser-leg on the red tiles, and a boot twisted against the pedestal of the lavatory. Then he was on his knees too, helping Bat to lift Father Conroy very gently and turn him over on his back.

The eyelids stirred, as if he were trying to force them apart.

Father O’Hara, summoned from the dining room, knelt by his head and whispered the act of contrition into his ear, all the time feeling for the small throb of the pulse. Some of the priests crowded in the doorway, until Father O’Hara looked up suddenly and, as at a word, they withdrew, all except Father Mahon and Bat. Somebody was at the phone downstairs, trying to get through. Out at the gate, a car engine revved up, then roared away into the distance.

The eyes opened at last. They stared up, their smoky blue flooded by the black iris. Then they turned, seemed to reach out and find Father O’Hara and stay upon him. The lips moved several times in silence, as if rehearsing the name which came suddenly, “O’Hara” and then, low but clear, a frightened invocation. “Christ, O’Hara, am I done?”

Father O’Hara smiled, patted the wrist, and looked across at Father Mahon. “We’ll see, Tom, we’ll see.”

The eyes searched him a moment longer, but he kept looking obstinately toward Father Mahon. Slowly, with frightening deliberation, they followed his gaze, overhauling it, reeling it in until they had Father Mahon captive. The lips parted – it seemed, at first, in a grimace – but the eyes, the whole face, was sweetened by the smile, and the head nodded several times, as if bubbles of pure laughter were trying to break through. Suddenly the intensity went out of the eyes, leaving the lips still parted, so that the whole face had a stricken look. The head fell sideways, a heavy lump half-turned to the wall, all the buoyancy gone out of it. It did not move again.

*