"Are there any other questions?" he called. But his voice was drowned by the angry roar of the crowd.
"Not exactly a successful evening," he said as he took her home. They had had to wait for hours before the crowd dispersed.
She was depressed. She said nothing.
"What's the next stage in the campaign?" he asked.
"Next stage? Is it worth it, Alan? I'm getting nowhere. I've never known such wild hysteria. I thought we got rid of all that a century ago."
"It takes longer than a hundred years to educate people to listen to reason when someone tells them their lives are liable to be snuffed out in an instant."
"I suppose so. But what are we going to do? I didn't expect such a strong reaction. I didn't intend to say that I thought the Fireclown was innocent. I knew that was going too far, that they couldn't take direct opposition to what they now believe. But I got so angry."
"It's just unfortunate," he said comfortingly, though inwardly he was slightly annoyed that she had lost her self-control at the last minute. "And it's early days yet. Maybe, by the time the campaign's over, we'll have more people on our side."
"Maybe they'll just ignore us," she said tiredly as they entered her apartment.
"No, I don't think that. We're nothing if not controversial!"
Next day, the RLM Political Headquarters received a deputation.
Two men and two women. The men were both thin and of medium height. One of them, the first to advance into the front office and confront Alan, who had elected to deal with them, was sandy-haired, with a prominent Adam's apple and a nervous tic. The other was less remarkable, with brown hair and a mild face in which two fanatical eyes gleamed. The women might have been pretty if they had dressed less dowdily and paid more attention to their hair and make-up. In a word, they were frumps.
The taller woman carried a neat banner which read: THE END OF THE WORLD DRAWS SLOWLY NIGH. LATTER-DAY ADVENTISTS SAY 'NO' TO FALSE GODS. STOP THE FIRECLOWN.
Alan knew what they represented. And he knew of the leader, had seen his face in innumerable broadcasts.
"Good morning, Elder Smod," he said brightly. "What can we do for you?"
"We have come as the voice of the Latter-Day Adventists to denounce you," Elder Smod said sonorously. The Latter-Day Adventists were now the strongest and only influential religious body in existence today, and their ranks were comprised so obviously of bewildered half-wits and pious paranoiacs that public and politicians alike did not pay them the attention that such a large movement would otherwise merit in a democracy. However, they could be a nuisance. And the main nuisance was Elder Smod, second-in-command to senile Chief Elder Bevis, who was often observed to have fallen asleep during one of his own speeches.
"And why should you wish to denounce me?" Alan raised his eyebrows.
"We've come to denounce the Radical Liberal Movement for its outrageous support of this spawn of Satan, the Fireclown!" said one of the frumps in a surprisingly clear and musical voice.
"But what have the Latter-Day Adventists to do with the Fireclown?" Alan asked in surprise.
"Young man, we oppose the supporters of Satan."
"I'm sure you do. But I still don't see what connection…"
"Satan seeks to destroy the world by fire before the good Lord has his chance.
We cannot tolerate that!"
Alan remembered now that the original twentieth-century sect had announced that they were the only ones who would be saved when the world was destroyed by fire.
They had been a little chary of announcing the date but, egged on by slightly disenchanted supporters, they had finally given an exact date for the end of the world-2000 A.D., claiming the Third Millennium would contain only the faithful.
Sadly, when the Third Millennium dawned, it contained fewer of the faithful than before, since many had not wholly accepted the fact pointed out to them by the movement's elders, that the Bible had earlier been misread as to the date of Christ's birth. (A speedy and splendid juggling with the Christian, Jewish and Moslem calendars had taken place on January 1st, 2000 A.D.) But, in spite of the discredit, the movement had grown again with the invention of a slightly altered interpretation-i.e., that the world would not perish in a sudden holocaust but that it would begin-and had begun-to perish from the year 2000-giving an almost infinite amount of time for the process to take place. However, the coming of the Fireclown scare, with its talk of destruction, had evidently thrown them out again!
"But why, exactly, have you come to us?" Alan demanded.
"To ask you to side with the righteous against the Fire-clown. We were astonished to see that there were still foolish sinners on Earth who could believe him innocent! So we came-to show you the True Way."
"Thank you," said Alan, "but all I say-and I cannot speak for the RLM as a whole-is that the Fireclown is not likely to destroy the world by fire. We have no argument."
Elder Smod seemed a trifle nonplussed. Evidently he considered the Fireclown a sort of johnny-come-lately world-destroyer, whereas his movement had had, for some time, a monopolistic concession on the idea.
Alan decided to humor him and said gently: "The Fireclown could be an agent for your side, couldn't he?"
"No! He is Satan's spawn. Satan," said Smod with a morose satisfaction, "has come among us in the shape of the Fireclown."
"Satan? Yet the clown predicted a return of fire to the world unless, in your terms, the world turned its back on Mammon. And one cannot worship both…"
"A devil's trick. The Fireclown is Satan's answer to the True Word-our word! "
It was no good. Alan couldn't grasp his logic-if logic there was. He had to admit defeat.
"What if we don't cease our support of the Fireclown?" he asked.
"Then you will be destroyed in the flames from heaven!"
"We can't win, can we?" Alan said.
"You are like the rest of your kind," Elder Smod sneered. "They paid us no attention, either."
"Who do you mean?"
"You profess not to know! Ha! Are you not one of that band who call themselves the Secret Sons of the Fireclown?"
"I didn't know there was such a group. Where are they?"
"We have already tried to dissuade them from their false worship. A deputation of our English brothers went to them yesterday, but to no avail."
"They're in England? Where?"
"In the stinking slums of Mayfair, where they belong, of course!" Elder Smod turned to his followers. "Come-we have tried to save them, but they heed us not.
Let us leave this gateway to Hell!"
They marched primly out.
Mayfair. Wasn't that where Bias had his hideout? Perhaps the two were connected.
Perhaps this was the lead that would prove, once and for all, whether the Fireclown planned mammoth arson or whether the syndicate had framed him.
Alan hurriedly made his way into the back room where Helen and Jordan Kalpis were planning her tour.
"Helen, I think I've got a lead. I’m not sure what it is, but if I’m lucky I’ll be able to get evidence to prove that we're right about the Fireclown. He's still got some supporters, I just learned, in London. I’m going there."
"Shall I come with you?"
"No. You've got a lot of ground to make up if you're going to get near to winning this election. Stick at it-and don't lose your self-control over the Fireclown issue. I’ll get back as soon as I’ve got some definite information."
"Alan, it's probably dangerous. Bias and his like take pains to protect themselves."
"I’ll do the same, don't worry," he said. He turned to Kalpis. "Could we have a moment, Jordan?"
Jordan walked tactfully out of the room.
Alan took Helen in his arms, staring down at her face. She had a half-startled look, half-worried. "Alan…"
"Yes?"
She shook her head, smiling. "Look after yourself."