The mayor of the town confronted him. Martin set up a tripod, screwed a box onto it, and switched on the batteries.
“Are you the mayor?” The captain jabbed a finger out.
“I am,” said the mayor.
The delicate apparatus stood between them, controlled and adjusted by Martin and the assistant. Instantaneous translations from any language were made by the box. The words sounded crisply on the mild air of the city.
“About this occurrence yesterday,” said the captain. “It occurred?”
“It did.”
“You have witnesses?”
“We have.”
“May we talk to them?”
“Talk to any of us,” said the mayor. “We are all witnesses.”
In an aside to Martin the captain said, “Mass hallucination.” To the mayor, “What did this man—this stranger—look like?”
“That would be hard to say,” said the mayor, smiling a little.
“Why would it?”
“Opinions might differ slightly.”
“I’d like your opinion, sir, anyway,” said the captain. “Record this,” he snapped to Martin over his shoulder. The lieutenant pressed the button of a hand recorder.
“Well,” said the mayor of the city, “he was a very gentle and kind man. He was of a great and knowing intelligence.”
“Yes—yes, I know, I know.” The captain waved his fingers. “Generalizations. I want something specific. What did he look like?”
“I don’t believe that is important,” replied the mayor.
“It’s very important,” said the captain sternly. “I want a description of this fellow. If I can’t get it from you, I’ll get it from others.” To Martin, “I’m sure it
must have been Burton, pulling one of his practical jokes.”
Martin would not look him in the face. Martin was coldly silent.
The captain snapped his fingers. “There was something or other—a healing?”
“Many healings,” said the mayor.
“May I see one?”
“You may,” said the mayor. “My son.” He nodded at a small boy who stepped forward. “He was afflicted with a withered arm. Now, look upon it.”
At this the captain laughed tolerantly. “Yes, yes. This isn’t even circumstantial evidence, you know. I didn’t see the boy’s withered arm. I see only his arm whole and well. That’s no proof. What proof have you that the boy’s arm was withered yesterday and today is well?”
“My word is my proof,” said the mayor simply.
“My dear man!” cried the captain. “You don’t expect me to go on hearsay, do you? Oh no!”
“I’m sorry,” said the mayor, looking upon the captain with what appeared to be curiosity and pity.
“Do you have any pictures of the boy before today?” asked the captain.