I think that it was about this time that he discarded ordinary clothes and began to go about clad in a curious garment manufactured from the skin of some animal. Except for his fiery beard, he recalled the sandal-shod John the Baptist represented in old illustrated Bibles. Nor was he alone in this fashion: some of his more prominent adherents also adopted it, though in their cases the results were not so imposing.
And now things moved rapidly towards their end.
The Reverend John preached daily in the streets, predicting a universal entry into Nirvana. His curses against those who worked for the physical salvation of the people to the detriment of their Karma became louder and more frequent; and it was not long until he spent most of his energies in comminations. From cursings, he passed to threats; and his attacks upon Nordenholt grew in vehemence day by day. And still Nordenholt, to my growing wonder, held his hand and forbore to strike.
By this time the religious mania was spreading rapidly throughout the population of the Area. The skin-clad followers of the Reverend John ran nightly through the streets crying that the Great Day was at hand and calling upon the people to repent of their sins and turn to righteousness. Strange scenes were witnessed; and stranger doctrines preached. It was a weird time.
Meanwhile, the preaching of the revivalist was becoming more and more exalted. He named himself a Prophet, the last and the greatest. He began to be more definite in his predictions; events which he foreshadowed were foretold as coming to pass at stated dates. At last he gave out that three days later he and his followers would publicly ascend to heaven in a cloud of glory; and that the world of earthly things would pass away as he did so.
And still Nordenholt held his hand. I could not understand it; for by this time I had seen where the teaching of the Reverend John was leading us. Work was slowing down in the factories; crowds of all classes were spending their whole time following their Prophet; and the mere numbers of them were becoming a serious menace to the safety of the Area. At last I became so anxious on the subject that I went to consult Nordenholt on the matter. I had begun to doubt if he appreciated the gravity of the situation.
I found him sitting before the fire in his office, smoking and gazing before him as though wrapped in his reflections.
“Look here, Nordenholt,” I said. “I suppose you grasp the seriousness of affairs nowadays? Isn’t it about time something was done? It seems to me that you’ll need to grasp this nettle before long anyway. Why let it grow any bigger?”
“Afraid I’m losing my grip, eh? Not yet, Jack, not yet awhile. But I will grasp it before long. I’m only waiting the proper moment. I’ve waited for weeks; and now I think it’s nearly due at last.”
“But the man’s insane, Nordenholt. You see that, don’t you? Why wait any longer. Grab him now and be done with it—at least that’s what I should do if I were in charge.”
“No, I’m going to give him three days more. If I interfered now, it would spoil everything. Wait till he has seen his prophecy fail, and then we can tackle him.”
“I don’t see any use waiting; but I suppose you know best.”
“I do know best, Jack, believe me. Come back here in three days, at half-past eleven, and you’ll see my methods. I’m going to teach these people a lesson this time.”
He leaned back in his chair and fixed his eyes on the old stone image of the Pope’s head which, under its glass bell, forms part of the mantelpiece.
“What differences there are in the way religion works on a man, Jack. There was an old chap in the dark ages, that Pope; and he believed in spreading the light by education. He founded the University here. And then you have this fanatic today whose one idea seems to be to reduce everything to chaos again. What a difference! And yet each of them thinks that he is inspired to do the right thing in his day.”
He threw away the end of his cigar and rose.
“Come back in three days, Jack. You’ll see it all then. I needn’t explain it now.”
The events of the following two days filled me with uneasiness; and I began to fear that for once Nordenholt had erred in his calculations. The tumult and agitation centring around the figure of the revivalist increased; his preaching became more and more menacing; and it seemed to me that he had been allowed too much rope. By this time he was quite frankly attacking the whole scheme of the Nitrogen Area as an act of impiety which would call down the wrath of the Divinity in the immediate future. And mingled with these cursings he poured forth his prophecies, which grew hourly more detailed. He and his Elect would ascend into the sky at noon, he declared; and that all men might see this come about, he proposed to take his stand by the Roberts’ statue in Kelvingrove Park, from which eminence he would be visible to the assembled crowds.
Rumours ran through the Area, growing wilder and yet more wild as they passed from lip to lip. Even the most unimaginative of the population felt the strange electric power which seemed to flow out from the revivalist; and the tales of his doings were magnified and distorted out of all semblance of reality. Just as Nordenholt had predicted, all the formless unrest of the Area crystallised round the personality of the preacher and took shape and substance. Work was abandoned by the greater part of the Area labour; and the factories, usually thronged by shift after shift, remained almost untenanted during those two days in which the populace awaited the promised miracle.
Meanwhile the followers of the revivalist redoubled their efforts and
