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.