Figure of speech. Twice, Myles Crawford asks his listeners a question which he proceeds to answer himself: "You know how he made his mark? I'll tell you"; "Look at here. What did Ignatius Gallaher do? I'll tell you." The rhetorical term for such one-person Q&A is hypophora, a kind of reasoning aloud that requires listeners to do nothing but listen.

Hypophora (hie-PAH-for-uh, from Greek hypo- = under + phora = carrying) has much in common with so-called "rhetorical questions" like anacoenosis and erotesis. Anacoenosis makes a show of soliciting listeners' opinions while directing them toward a very limited range of correct answers. Erotesis implies an answer so obvious that no audience participation is needed. Hypophora too eliminates all audience involvement, but it expands the range of possible answers. The speaker responds to his own question with a considered, and often quite lengthy, reply. (Sometimes the answer is called anthypophora, in the same way that sung responses in a church liturgy are called antiphons. The ancient Greek rhetorician Gorgias uses the word anthypophora in this sense, as does the English writer George Puttenham.)

Richard Nordquist (thoughtco.com) offers a host of examples from TV ads ("What's the best tuna? Chicken of the Sea"), songs ("Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son? / Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?..."), books ("Who wants to become a writer? And why?..."), and speeches. One brief example of oratorical hypophora may suffice here. In a 1970 commencement address, the poet Ogden Nash asked, "How are we to survive? Solemnity is not the answer, any more than witless and irresponsible frivolity is. I think our best chance lies in humor, which in this case means a wry acceptance of our predicament. We don't have to like it but we can at least recognize its ridiculous aspects, one of which is ourselves."

Neither Gilbert nor Seidman lists hypophora among the rhetorical devices of Aeolus, but it seems appropriate to the question that the newspaper editor asks about the reporting of the Phoenix Park murders. Crawford has a detailed story to tell and he wants to tell in his own way, at length. But he introduces his lecture with a question: "What did Ignatius Gallaher do?"

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