"Why, that's the subject up tonight," Stillings declared, "and Miss Wynn
will be sure to be there. You can make your call later. Perhaps you
wouldn't mind taking me when you call." Alwyn reached for his hat.
When they arrived, the basement of the great church was filling with a
throng of men and women. Soon the officers and the speaker of the
evening appeared. The president was a brown woman who spoke easily and
well, and introduced the main speaker. He was a tall, thin,
hatchet-faced black man, clean shaven and well dressed, a lawyer by
profession. His theme was "The Democratic Party and the Negro." His
argument was cool, carefully reasoned, and plausible. He was evidently
feeling for the sympathy of his audience, and while they were not
enthusiastic, they warmed to him gradually and he certainly was strongly
impressing them.
Bles was thinking. He sat in the back of the hall, tense, alert,
nervous. As the speaker progressed a white man came in and sat down
beside him. He was spectacled, with bushy eyebrows and a sleepy look.
But he did not sleep. He was very observant.
"Who's speaking?" he asked Bles, and Bles told him. Then he inquired
about one or two other persons. Bles could not inform him, but Stillings
could and did. Stillings seemed willing to devote considerable time to
him.
Bles forgot the man.
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