. . . I
looked about for Foe, and spotted him. They had given him a chair
close under the platform, a little to my right. He had taken his
seat and was scanning the platform attentively. The arc-light shone
down on his face, and showed it white, bewildered, a trifle
strained. . . . But this may have been no more than my fancy.
The Chairman asked for silence. He was a bald-headed small man of no
particular points and (as Jimmy whispered) seemed to feel his
position acutely. He said that, whatever their personal differences,
they would all agree that Mr. Jenkinson's speech had uplifted them
above ordinary politics. He had felt himself speaking not as their
Chairman but as a private individual--or, in other words, as a man--
uplifted into a higher plane, and he would now call upon their
respected candidate, Mr. Farrell, to address the meeting.
Mr. Farrell stepped forward. I must try to tell you what Mr. Farrell
looked like, because it belongs to the story. . . . You'll find that
it becomes pretty important.
He was of medium height and carried a belly.
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