Then he reads it slowly, his lips moving as he spells the words
out. The audience is shifting around, acting as if it wanted to rise and
bolt for the door.
"Ah," exclaims the orator, "the policeman says that an enemy of the
revolution has smashed an automobile belonging to one of the audience that
was standing in front of the hall. The number of the automobile is as
follows." He recites the number slowly. And then: "If anybody has an
automobile by that number standing downstairs he better go and look after
it."
A substantial looking north sider arises and walks hurriedly through the
hall. The orator decides to subside. There is a wait for the chief
speaker, who has not yet arrived. During the wait an incident develops.
There are two lights burning at the rear of the stage. A young woman calls
one of the officials of the meeting.
"Look," she says, "those lights make it impossible for us to see the
speaker who stands in front of them. They shine in our eyes."
The official wears a red sash across the front of his coat. He is one of
the minor leaders among the west side soviet radicals. He blinks. "What do
you want of me?" he inquires with indignation. "I should go and turn the
lights out? You think I'm the janitor?"
"But can't you just turn the lights off?" persists the young woman.
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