The Five Arrows

  _Chapter ten_

  There were two shouts. On the floor, one of the Senators screamed "_VivaLa Republica!_" At the same moment a young voice in the press galleryyelled, "_Viva_ Don Anibal Tabio!" and in the great hall every mansprang to his feet. The low distant thunder of the crowds in the Plazahad now swelled to a roar whose joyous overtones poured into the Hall ofCongress through the doors, the windows, the steel and marble wallsthemselves. Senators and Deputies of the Popular Front Parties were thefirst in the hall to find their voices. "_Viva_ Don Anibal!" theyshouted, applauding wildly, laughing, yelling, embracing one another,wondering if the tears in their eyes could be seen by their colleagues.The anti-Tabio Congressmen remained on their feet, their hands moving inthe motions of applause, their hearts cold and sick. Somehow, EduardoGamburdo had found his former place on the rostrum, was now standing andapplauding with the other people in the hall. The signals had beencrossed. The dead President had come to life. Anibal Tabio was sittingbefore the chromium microphone, serene and unmoving, his paralyzed legsneatly covered with a light Indian blanket.

  Outside, the crowd had begun to sing the national anthem. Thelegislators, the reporters, many of the Latin American diplomats in thevisitors' gallery took up the words. Hall glanced at his neighbors.Tears flowed down the cheeks of Duarte and his chief. A few rows away,Skidmore and Orville Smith, correctly dressed in formal afternoon wear,stood stiffly at attention, their eyes firmly riveted to the strangetableau of Tabio and his entourage.

  Someone thrust a huge bouquet of orange and blue mountain flowers at theinvalid in the wheel chair. His son Diego accepted the flowers, laidthem tenderly on an empty chair. Diego at fifteen was heavier than hisfather had ever been, darker, more like an Indian peasant than the sonof Anibal Tabio. His brother Simon, who now accepted the second bouquet,was an eighteen-year-old replica of Don Anibal himself. Tall, lithe, hehad the same fair brown hair, the same thin spiritual face as thefather. Lavandero, standing behind Tabio's chair, had the dark, broodingface of a Moor. His shock of black hair started at the peak of a high,broad forehead; his large black mustache failed to dominate his thick,strong lips. He was rubbing a hairy fist in his eyes and talking softlyto Tabio.

  The President, at fifty-three, seemed to have aged ten years since Hallhad last seen him. His hair had turned gray, and everything about himwas thinner than ever before in his life. In Geneva, Hall had alwayswondered what would have happened to the thin, delicate frame of AnibalTabio in a tropical hurricane. Now, even from the gallery, Hall couldsee that Tabio had grown so thin that the high cheek bones which hadalways marked his slender face now stuck out like two sharp points,almost burying the deep-set gray eyes. Tabio sat quietly in his wheelchair, smiling at friends on the floor, looking first to Diego then toSimon, gently patting the hand of his older son when the boy put hishand on the father's fragile shoulder.

  The ovation continued when the singing of the national anthem wascompleted. Tabio turned to Lavandero, whispered a few words. TheMinister of Education held his hands, palms out, toward the assemblage."Please," he said. "Please."

  Guests and legislators took their seats. In another room, a drummerdropped his cymbal on the floor. It rent the sudden silence of the greathall, and then its echoes were stilled.

  Anibal Tabio squeezed the hands of his sons, drew a deep breath, andfaced the microphone before him.

  "My countrymen," he said, "this is the third year in which I have hadthe honor of addressing you at this solemn hour. A week ago, I wouldhave said that my chances of preaching my own funeral sermon were betterthan my chances of opening this, the fifteenth free Congress of ourbeloved Republic.

  "But since then ..." he leaned forward, his long chin juttingpugnaciously forward as he gasped for breath, "since then many thingshave come to my ears. I have heard rumors. Strange and disturbing rumorsabout what was going to happen today. I need not repeat these rumors toyou. You have all heard them."

  Hall looked at Skidmore's face as Smith translated Tabio's words.

  "Yes, you have heard them. When they came to my ears," Tabio said, "Ithought: What is happening? Who dares to challenge the mandate of thepeople? Who dares to speak of perverting the will of the people? It wasthen that I knew, as never before, that a President's place is with thepeople. If I could sit up in my bed and talk this way to my sons, to mydear friend Esteban Lavandero, then I could sit up in this chair beforeyou, the chosen representatives of the people.

  "My good friends, this may be the last time I will ever speak toyou ..."

  Shouts of "No!" rang all over the hall.

  "Hear me, friends. Hear me and mark well what I say. Once this nationhonored me with the post of Minister of Foreign Affairs. As yourMinister, I crossed the ocean. I went to Geneva. I went to Spain, fromwhere we have derived so much of our culture, our language, so much ofour personality as a people.

  "We are today a free people, not the colonial vassals we were in thedays of Imperial Spain. But Spain, too, had become a free nation in1931. I saw the free Spain at the hour of her birth, when the hatedBourbon heard the voice of Spain's millions at the ballot and fled tothe empty pleasures of a decaying society abroad. I also saw the freeSpain in the hours of her agony. It was at that hour that I beheld forthe first time the ugly bloodless face of fascism.

  "It is a cold, metallic, impersonal face, my countrymen, the face of anAgusto Segura grown to superhuman power, the maniacal face of a madkiller who suddenly finds all the world's horrible instruments ofdestruction in his idiot hands. I saw this beast grow strong on theblood of free men, and I wept for a gallant people who, for a few briefmoments, had presumed to control their own destinies.

  "Yes," Tabio said, his hand pointing across an ocean, "yes, I wept forSpain, but through my tears I began to see my own native land, saw myown people enjoying this precious freedom. And at that moment I knewthat I must dedicate whatever remained of my life to doing all that wasin my power as a man and as a citizen to keep the beast of fascism fromgorging on our young Republic.

  "I have fought that fight to this very moment. But more important thananything I have done has been the magnificent unity of our peoples intheir determination to struggle against fascism in all of its blackforms. It has not been the President who has led the people in thisgreat crusade. No, my countrymen. It has been the people who havecreated and given their mandate to the President, to the Congress."

  Tabio had never learned a single orator's trick. As a statesman, heretained all the speaking habits he had originally formed during hisearly years as a young professor of history at the university. Teaching,he once explained, was the process of thinking aloud. And at thismoment, in what he guessed would be his last speech to the nation,Anibal Tabio returned to the concepts which had gone into his great bookon the relationships of people to government in modern democracy. Forthe better part of thirty minutes, he explored these relationshipsagain. After all these years, the professor was back in class, patientlyexpounding his ideas to a new set of faces.

  "Well, that is the state and the people. I have not told you anythingnew. You have heard this all before from me." Tabio was laughing softly,and at himself. "But that is what happens when the people elect apedantic professor as their President. Instead of a speech, they get along, dry lecture."

  Tabio paused, frowned at the people who sat hushed in the hall. "Haveyou forgotten how to laugh?" he asked. A few loyal followers tried tolaugh. "Good," Tabio said.

  "But I am not finished, my countrymen. I have spoken of the idealdemocratic state. Many of us like to feel that we have achieved thisstate. That perfection is ours. This is dangerous thinking. Of course,we are not as imperfect as a certain newspaper in San Hermano and acertain organization which has usurped the symbol of brotherly love asits emblem"--this time he drew some real laughter--"we are not asimperfect as they would have you believe.

  "But even if we were the most perfect state in the world, today thiswould mean very little. Our chances of surviving, of progressing untilthe Republic
of Man became even more attractive than the Kingdom of God,our chances of surviving at all would still be obscured. If our nationwere some remote island in the skies, whirling on its own axis, remotefrom all other lands, perhaps then I would have no fears for our future.

  "We are not this remote planet unto ourselves. We share a world with ahundred nations, a thousand races. I do not regret that we are part ofthis world. I think we should rejoice in our membership in the world'sfamily of races. But we must not lose sight of the fact that our nation,no less than any other nation, be it free or fascist, is part of thisstrange family.

  "We must never forget that the great war which started in unhappy Spainin July, 1936, was not a war between good and evil in Spain alone. Itwas a war not of two Spanish ideas but of two fundamental world ideas.It was the start of the universal death struggle between the slave-worldideas of fascism and the free-world ideas of political and economicdemocracy. It was the start of the fascist war against freedom that hasnow spread all over the world."

  Tabio glanced at his two sons. He accepted a glass of water, smiling atthe legislators in the front rows as he drank. "Freedom," he said, "isthere a man who does not know the meaning of the word?" Before hereturned to the theme of the world war which had started in Spain, heexplored the full meaning of freedom in modern times. It was only afterhe had delivered a profound essay on freedom which shook Matthew Halluntil the American felt a lump rising in his throat that Tabio picked upthe earlier threads.

  "In Spain, then, the forces of freedom suffered a heavy loss. But whatof those small men with narrow little minds who held the reins of somuch of the world's power while Spain bled? What of these tinystatesmen, these sleek somnambulists who held lace handkerchiefs beforetheir narrow mouths and laughed while fascism marched in Spain? What ofthese wretches who, through the immoral instrument callednon-intervention, sought to end freedom in Spain in the criminalconviction that the blood of Spain alone would satisfy the fascistbeast?

  "History was not long in giving the lie to these gentry. The beast whohad whetted his insatiable appetite in Spain now started almostimmediately to claw at the world. It was in April of 1939 that Madridfell. By September the beast belched and turned on the very creatureswho had covertly and overtly helped him subdue Spain."

  That Tabio had not raised his voice at this point, that he in fact spokemore softly, accentuated all the more the scorn and the anger in hisheart.

  "Nations have fallen to the beast," he continued. "Nations of meagerfreedom, like Poland. Nations of great and traditional freedom, likeFrance. The war has spread over the world like a Biblical plague. Russiacould not escape it. Nor could our great sister Republic, the UnitedStates.

  "Yes, North Americans now have felt the pain, the anguish, the power ofAxis treachery. No nation can escape this war.

  "My countrymen, we are not an island in the skies. We are a sovereignnation in the same world, on the same earth, in the same waters, sharingthe same era as the United States, England, Russia and China. It is notfor us to choose whether or not we can stay out of this war. That choicethe world does not permit us. Our only choice is the determination ofwhat our role must be in this war.

  "There has been strange talk in our land lately. There has been strangeand deceitful talk of neutrality. Has it not occurred to any of you thatthose in our midst who howl the loudest for neutrality, who show such asudden concern for the lives and safety of the humblest Indian peasant,that these pious seekers after neutrality have never before worn thewhite dove on their family escutcheons? Who are these peaceful gentlemenwho grow pale in the presence of bloodshed? Are they not the samepersons who as young men were proud to be officers in the armies ofSegura, who laughed and drank as they ruthlessly shot down defenselessminers in the northern provinces?

  "Who are these sudden pacifists in our Republic? Are they not the verydevout gentlemen who sent money and rum and cigars to the fascists inSpain during the Spanish phase of this war? Are they not the very menwho sent cables of homage to Hitler and Mussolini after the shame ofMunich? Are they not the very men who even now wear the medals of NaziGermany, of Blackshirt Italy, of Falangist Spain--who wear these medalsproudly while they chortle over the blood of dying Russians on theEastern Front, of dying Americans on the Bataan peninsula?"

  Tabio stopped. His eyes searched the press gallery, then fixed on JoseFernandez. He pointed a graceful hand at the publisher of _ElImparcial_.

  "I ask you," he said, "are they not the very men who write in theirpapers that Adolf Hitler, whatever be his alleged faults, is waging aholy crusade on behalf of Christian civilization against Marxistatheism?"

  Tabio continued looking at Fernandez, but Lavandero shot a fierce scowlat Ambassador Skidmore, who seemed bewildered and unhappy as Smithtranslated Tabio's questions. The Ambassador, too, had seen the objectof Tabio's shaft. Angry, uneasy laughter broke out on the floor. A cryof "Long live the United Nations!" from one of the Popular Frontdeputies was immediately answered with the shout "Long live Christ theKing" from the public gallery.

  The President, who had heard both shouts, turned to the gallery. "Whoare these neutrals?" he asked. "Are they not the same fascists who hopeto fool God by casting their fascist swords in the image of the Cross ofJesus? Are they not the fanatics who, rather than see the Axis beastdestroyed, would first destroy the freedom and the dignity of their ownland?

  "They lie. There can be no neutrals in this world war. He who callshimself a neutral is either a fool or a fascist. And the fine gentlemenwho prate of neutrality are very clever men."

  The Popular Front Congressmen rose to their feet, applauding and addingto the din with their shouts of agreement. They were joined by a few ofthe independents. The delegates of the rightist coalition remained intheir seats, their arms folded across their chests. But they were notquiet. As the ovation for Tabio continued, loud cries came from theranks of the men who kept their seats. "Down with atheism!" shouted onerightist Senator. "We have no quarrel with any other nation!" anotheryelled. "We will not die for Godless Russia!"

  "Long live democracy!" a Popular Front deputy answered. "Long live theanti-fascist United Nations!"

  Esteban Lavandero pleaded with the Congress for silence.

  "My countrymen," Tabio said, "there can be no neutrality in this war.There is one official neutral in Europe. His name is Francisco Franco.We all know what this hypocritical neutrality really is; how it shieldsthe vile aid that fascist Spain is lending to the Axis. But this is asit should be. Franco is a fascist, and today fascism must triumph allover the world or be crushed forever.

  "But what of our own nation, what of the twenty nations of HispanicAmerica in this war? What is our stake in this world struggle?

  "If the Axis wins this war, we, like all other nations, must ofnecessity lose our political freedom. And if we once lose our politicaldemocracy, we must begin again the long, bitter struggle to win it oncemore before we can even begin to dream of creating an era of economicdemocracy.

  "If the United Nations win, if world fascism is crushed forever, a newworld era of economic democracy must begin at once. It will not comeeasily. The defeat of the Axis will not immediately bring in its wakethe millennium. It will, however, give the common people of the worldthe final realization of their great power. In this lies the inherentstrength of political democracy. For democracy is not a static thing. Itcan grow and bring in the era of economic democracy, or it can falterand give way to fascism.

  "The common people of the world, today fighting and dying behind thebanners of the United Nations, have served notice on history that theywill not rest until fascism has been swept from the face of this earth."

  Tabio was now speaking with both arms raised, his hands reaching out toeveryone. "My countrymen, I have said enough. I know that I have spokenthe thoughts that are uppermost in the minds of that great majority ofour citizens who have given their mandate to you and to me. In a week,you will have to frame the mandate for the delegation which will speakfor our Republic at t
he forthcoming conference of the nations of theAmericas. Speak out! Speak out honestly, speak out openly. Speak as thespokesmen of a democracy. Speak as the citizens of the embattled uniteddemocracies of the entire world must speak at this hour. Speak for thefree men of the free world. Speak firmly, for you will be speaking notonly for the future of our own Republic but for the future of allmankind."

  The Cuban Ambassador, whose seat was nearest the podium, crossed theplush rail and rushed to Tabio's wheel chair. He fell to his knees,embraced the President. In a flash, Eduardo Gamburdo left his own placeand copied the Cuban's gesture. The rostrum became crowded withdignitaries bent on paying the same homage to Anibal Tabio. The envoysof the Latin American democracies, the delegates of the Free French andthe Spanish Republican juntas, the leaders of the trade unions and thechiefs of the Popular Front parties milled around the wheel chair as thepro-democrats in the hall added their voices to the cheers of the crowdsin the Plaza. Duarte, his soft raspy words choked and unintelligible,embraced Hall.

  Lavandero was pulling the wheel chair back toward the door of theSpeaker's Chamber. The well-wishers of the President followed him intothe room. For a moment, the people in the auditorium applauded the blankdoor through which Tabio had vanished. Then young Simon Tabio returnedto pick up the flowers on the chair, and his father's supporters cheeredlouder, punctuating their cheers with cries of "Long live Don Anibal!"The youth streaked into the room behind the platform.

  "Let's get out of here," Hall said.

  "I've got to go to my office," Duarte said. "I have to prepare a reporton the speech. Join me, and then we can talk."

  "Pepe can drive us over."

  "No one drives today," Duarte said when they reached the visitors'doorway.

  The streets were jammed thick with people. Hall had never seen so manypeople in San Hermano before. It was as if every house, every buildingin the university, every shop, every wharf, every school had been turnedinside out and its people poured out into the streets. Whole families intheir best clothes, trolley drivers in their work uniforms, longshoremenin their dungarees, even peasants from the other side of Monte Azul intheir brown-cotton trousers and their broad-brimmed straw hats milledalong the sidewalks, the pavements, the Plaza, the trolley tracks. Cars,taxis, trucks, wagons, trolleys were parked crazily all over the place.

  Pepe, like a hundred other drivers within a block of the Hall ofCongress, was standing on top of his car, waving the flag of theRepublic, shouting, "Long live the United Nations! Long live Don Anibal!Long live the Republic!"

  Crowds formed around each parked vehicle, joined the cries of thedrivers. The roofs of the trolleys were jammed with groups of studentsand motormen waving flags or the banners of their student societies andtheir unions. Thousands of Hermanitos, kids in overalls, housewives,lawyers, shopkeepers wandered through the crowds with framed portraitsof Anibal Tabio which an hour ago had hung from the walls of theirhomes, their offices, their shops. The pictures of Tabio ranged fromformal photographs and oil paintings to crude charcoal drawings andpictures torn from the daily press.

  Hall and Duarte made their way to Pepe's sedan. When he saw them, he putthe flag in his left hand and with his right hand he pointed tosomething on the ground on the opposite side of the car. "Look!" Pepeshouted. "Down here!"

  A pile of torn Cross-and-Sword placards lay on the cobbles inside a ringof laughing young Hermanitos who were urinating on the signs. Some ofthe boys in this ring showed signs of having been in a fight.

  "The fascists ran away," Pepe laughed. "Don Anibal's speech split theirfilthy ears."

  "I'll see you later," Hall told Pepe.

  "Wait!" Pepe shouted. He leaned over the side of his cab. "Boy," hesaid, "boy, where is that flag for the American _companero_? That's theone. Thank you, boy." He lay down on his belly, stretched a huge pawinto the crowd around the remains of the Cross-and-Sword banners. Whenhe stood up, he had a small American flag in his hand.

  "Wonderful," Hall said, taking the flag. "I guess it's also the Yankeeday to howl."

  A crowd formed around Hall and Duarte. They saluted the American flag,saluted the Mexican uniform.

  "Long live the United States! Long live Mexico!" the crowd shouted, andthe two men answered, as one, "Long live Don Anibal!"

  The crowd separated, let them through. They walked a few steps, and thenanother crowd formed around them. Again they listened to cheers for theUnited States and Mexico, again they responded with their cheer forTabio.

  "Jesus H. Christ," Hall said. "This is the first time I've carried anAmerican flag in the streets since I was a Boy Scout in Ohio."

  "It will do you good, Mateo."

  "I like it. But try to make anyone believe it back home!"

  At the fourth block Hall and Duarte started to detour around a trolleycar which had stopped in the middle of a crossing. A dozen hands reacheddown from the crowded roof. "_Companeros!_ Take our hands! Climb up!Take our hands! We want a speech!"

  "Long live Mexico! Homage to Colonel Felipe Duarte, Counselor of theMexican Embassy and hero of the war against the fascists in Spain!"

  Duarte had to join the crowd on the roof of the stalled train. He made ashort speech about Mexico, Republican Spain, and the greatness of AnibalTabio.

  Two more blocks of happy, cheering Hermanitos. Vivas, salutes for theAmerican flag and the Mexican uniform. Men in dungarees and heavy shoessaluting the flag and the uniform with clenched fists. Young women andold men who embraced Hall and Duarte. Even an ancient with anicotine-yellowed white beard, who wiggled out of one crowd, tore theflag out of Hall's hand, kissed it, and then handed it back to theAmerican with an embrace and a viva for Voodro Veelson.

  * * * * *

  They were relaxing over a beer in Duarte's office when the explosioncame.

  "What the hell...?" Hall cried.

  There were two explosions. A little one, like the crack of a distantartillery piece in the mountains and then a louder, deep-toned whoosh ofa noise. They had both heard such noises before.

  "Remember that noise, Mateo?"

  Hall was on his feet. "Do I! Only one thing makes a noise like that," hesaid. "Direct hit on a gasoline tank."

  "Exactly."

  While they were washing, the sun had begun to set. Now a new sun hadrisen in the skies of San Hermano, risen at a point about a mile northof the Embassy. A great sheet of flame had shot from the ground,stabbing at the purpling skies, straining to leap clear of the roundheavy blobs of black smoke which rose from the same place and surgedover and around the fires.

  The streets were more crowded than they had been when Hall and Tabioleft the Congress. New signs had been added to the placards andportraits of Tabio which the people carried. Tremendous sketches andblown-up photos of Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin and Chiang Kai-shek,nailed to frames with handles for two men, bobbed over the heads of thecrowds. Duarte, from the balcony, asked the people on the street whathad happened. They thought it was a victory bonfire.

  "The hell it is, Felipe. Let's see for ourselves."

  "I must stay and write my cable. You go and then come back here."

  "Can you lend me a car and a chauffeur?"

  "You couldn't drive a car through these crowds. You'll have to walk.Leave through the back way. It opens on a narrow street leading to theAvenida de la Liberacion. You'll save time."

  Hall found the narrow street deserted. He set out at a fast pace, hiseyes on the flames and the increasingly heavy puffs of smoke. The shoutsof the crowds on the broad avenues and the plazas followed him up thesmall street. Over the cries of the Hermanitos came the wail of thesirens, the clamor of the bells on the American fire engines the cityhad purchased a few years back.

  The crowd half-pushed, half-guided Hall to the entrance of the Ritz. Heducked into the lobby to catch his breath, bought some cigars at thestand, lit one, and then decided to have a quick drink.

  Margaret Skidmore was at the bar with Giselle Prescott and a young manHall had met at th
e Embassy ball. The Prescott woman was wearing animmense wheel of a white hat. She was very drunk.

  "What's up?" Hall asked.

  "The Reds blew up a church," Margaret said. "How are you, Matt? I heardthat you were out on a monumental bender. Too many women?"

  "Too much alcohol." Then, to the man with the girls, "Didn't we meet atthe Embassy party? My name is Hall."

  "I'm the Marques de Runa."

  "Spanish?"

  Margaret answered for him. "No. Not exactly. The family had the titlerevalidated in 1930."

  Giselle Prescott shuddered over an emptied glass. She whisperedsomething about rum, romanism and rebellion.

  "What's eating her?" Hall asked Margaret.

  "Gin and communism. She's allergic to burning churches."

  "My father phoned the governor of our province and demanded soldiers toprotect the family estates," the young Marques said. "It is scandalous.We hear that they've already raped a nun and killed two priests. Myfather says that if El Tovarich ..."

  "Who saw the church burning?" Hall interrupted.

  "Everyone, senor."

  "Any of you?"

  Silence. "Any of you?" he repeated.

  "It was anarchy," the Marques said. "When El Tovarich started to rant inCongress today the Reds swarmed into the city from the wharves. Theytore a religious poster from my cousin's arms and beat him within aninch of his life."

  "Is that a fact?" Hall was staring at the gold emblem of the Cross andSword in the Marques' lapel. "That's too bad."

  "You see what I meant," Margaret said. "Now you understand me, Matt."

  "Sure. Now I understand. How about you, Giselle?"

  "What about me? I'm filing for the WP today."

  "Then you'd better come with me. I'm going to have a look at thisburning church. Might be good color stuff."

  "I don' wanna look," she said. "Gives me hives. Besides, I know allabout it anyway."

  Hall put his arm through Margaret's. "Let's you and me look, then," hesaid.

  "Don't go!" the Marques cried. "You're both dressed too well. They'llkill you."

  "I'd better not go with you, Matt."

  "But I insist. I'm going and you're coming with me."

  They watched de Runa stiffen. "Now don't be a child," she said. "Hallwill bring me back intact."

  "Don't go," the Marques said.

  Hall freed his hands. For a moment he thought he would have to use themon the Marques. Then Margaret tugged his arm. "Let's go if we're going,"she said. "You wait right here for me with Giselle, Freddie. I'll meetyou here in half an hour."

  The fire was five blocks from the Ritz. There was a half block heap ofglowing brick and rubble. Behind the rubble stood an old church, onewall partially blown out. The firemen were playing streams of water intoand around this hole.

  "God!" Margaret said. "The stench!"

  "Oil. My guess is that a thousand gallons of oil went up in smoke."

  In the crowd standing at the rim of the fire lines, a taxi driver turnedaround and glanced at Hall. "Some fire," he said.

  "What happened?"

  "Garage. The Phoenix Garage went up in smoke. Blew a hole in theCathedral when it exploded."

  "The Phoenix Garage?"

  "That's what it is, senor." The driver moved closer to the guttedrubble.

  "You wait here, Margaret. I'm going to talk to the firemen." He crossedthe fire lines, found his way to the engine captain near the mainhydrant. When he returned to Margaret, he gave her a complete report."The fire chiefs say that the Reds didn't blow up the church at all," hesaid. "Seems as if the gasoline tanks in the garage caught fire bythemselves."

  Margaret laughed. "Don't tell Gis," she said. "She's already cabled astory to the States that the Reds burned the church."