“Of course, jobs were tight then, so I guess government work was pretty popular,” Welles said, suddenly folksy and reminiscent. “Kinda the patriotic thing to do in 1934. Yes, sir, they used to say the Harvard Law School ran a regular bus service down here right after graduation.” This play to the gallery had the expected effect, and Welles, smiling slyly, waited for the laughter to subside. Then he looked back at Nick’s father. “But you didn’t come right away, did you?”

Nick’s father looked at him blankly, saying nothing.

“Mr Kotlar, is it not a fact that after Harvard Law School you offered your services to the United Mine Workers union during their illegal strike?”

“It was not an illegal strike.”

“Just answer the question,” Welles shot back. “Did you work for the UMW?”

“Yes.”

“And how much were you paid for this work?”

“It was unpaid.”

“Unpaid. Free, you mean. Well now, I’m just a country lawyer-I didn’t go to the Harvard Law School. They usually work for free up there? Or just the labor agitators?”

He rushed on, not waiting for Nick’s father to reply. “The Party often ask you to do union work, Mr Kotlar?”

“No,” his father said quietly.

“No.” Welles paused. “They had other plans for you. Washington plans. Seems a shame, considering. The strike went pretty well from their point of view, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t working for the Communist Party.”

“No. Just the miners. Out of the goodness of your heart. What made them so special, I wonder. To work free of charge.”

Nick’s father waited, drawing the room to his side of the table, then let his lips form the hint of a smile. “My father was a coal miner. He asked me to help. I didn’t think I could refuse.”

There was a slight pause and then the room buzzed. Welles, visibly surprised and annoyed, covered the microphone with his hand and turned to an aide. The other members of the committee began to talk too, as if by looking away Welles had given them all a brief recess. When he turned back to the mike, the room grew still, expectant.