‘No, I need no introduction,’ he said, quite softly.

The crowd tittered in mystification arid with some love. Mr Newman laughed too, a little. It was a strange kind of a speech. He understood nothing of what had made him laugh but he was intent on finding the clue, and he listened, and the crowd listened.

With a great breath the priest threw his resonance into the hall. ‘I need no introduction because you know me. I wear the cloth and by that you know me!’

Applause started. The priest raised his hand.

‘I have come to you tonight, good people, in the terrible heat of this day, to bring you a message from a city. A city beautiful to my eyes but a city reviled and crucified by some who breed hate and feed upon that hate. A city which has stood fast upon its independence, just as it stood fast in another era when America was dumping the tea of the worst – I say the worst tyranny of all time, bar none!’

Applause burst from the audience like a thousand arrows sprung at the same instant and with it rose the roar of voices.

‘I bring you this message from Boston!’

Before the roar could subside it lapped over itself.

‘Boston is cleansing herself, ladies and gentlemen, Boston is standing fast!’

Now the roar was a wave gathering its force over Mr Newman’s head. He understood now. He had read how they had been beating up Jews in Boston. A sudden movement at his side …. the man on his left was standing and thrusting his fist into the air and down again as though pulling a bell cord and shouting, ‘The Jews! The Jews!’ Mr Newman looked up at the face of the man, the creased and sweating face, and he saw the eyes and he looked away. In a moment the man sat down and Mr Newman could feel his glance. He turned slightly to the man and nodded. But the man was already looking at the priest.

Once more the priest stood picking at the splinter in the podium. He seemed to have forgotten entirely the crowd which was settling back to silence again. Suddenly he looked straight at them and held them in an angry stare. Mr Newman felt he was a man who said things as they occurred to him and he was curious as to what would come out next because he was afraid that anything in the world could come out.

‘But before I go on with this message, my dear brethren and co-patriots, before I continue I should like to inform, nay, warn you that there are amongst us tonight certain representatives of the press – how shall I say it ? – the international press.’

All around Mr Newman people were turning to look at their neighbors. Mr Newman looked at the man with the creases in his face just in time to meet the man’s full gaze. He smiled at the man but got no reply. He stuthed the faces around him and did not notice anyone who might be Jewish. To aid those who might be somewhat backward in understanding him, the priest continued, ‘I think we all know how to tell an internationalist from a nationalist.’