"Yes."
"Oh, the damned idiot! Now even if the police are not fixed every damned fascist in South America knows that the Fielding thing went wrong!"
"It's too late for cursing now. Let's talk about the whole picture after the speech."
The plaza facing the Hall of Congress was filling up with citizens who had come to hear the speech over the public-address system. Scattered through the crowds were men carrying signs reading "Viva Eduardo Gamburdo." Duarte pointed them out.
"Every one a Cross-and-Sword ruffian," he said. "I used to see the same faces while the Falange was legal. They then wore the blue shirt."
"I can't see their faces," Hall said.
"I've seen their faces. Three months ago Lombardo came to San Hermano to address the C.T.A.L. convention. The same gang showed up with their filthy signs, only this time the signs read: 'Viva Christ the King' and 'Go back to Bolshevik Mexico, you Dirty Jew' and 'Down with the Commune of the anti-Christ' and other lovely things. I know them."
"Something is happening," Duarte said when they were in the building. "Everyone is too quiet." They followed a military escort to the Mexican box.
The Mexican Ambassador was tense. "I don't like it," he said to Hall and Duarte. "Why is everyone so quiet on the rostrum?"
"They look as if they've seen a ghost," Hall said.