At half-past eleven, I went to Nordenholt’s office as I had promised. He was alone, seated at his huge desk. The usual mass of papers had been cleared away and I noticed that their place had been taken by a small piece of apparatus like a telephone in some respects and an ordinary electric bell-push on a wooden stand. Temporary wires ran from these to the window. “Come in, Jack. You’re just in time for the curtain.” “It seems to me, Nordenholt, that the curtain ought to have been rung down on this thing long ago. You’ve waited far too long, if you ask me.” “I don’t think I’ve miscalculated. And to tell you the truth, Jack, this is the biggest thing I’ve had to think out so far. It’s make or break with us this time; and we’ve never been as near disaster before. But I’ve thought it out; and I believe I’m right. Have a cigar.” He pushed a box across to me and I cut and lit one mechanically. “This thing here,” he tapped the instrument, “is a dictaphone. The transmitter’s fixed up in the statue over there.” He nodded in the direction of the Park below our windows. I got up and looked out. As far as my view reached, the ground was concealed by a closely-packed crowd of people, all standing motionless and intent upon the group on the open space around the statue. There had been some singing of hymns earlier in the morning; but now the vast concourse had fallen silent as their expectation rose to fever-heat and the hour of the miracle drew near. “I’m going to give him every chance,” said Nordenholt’s voice behind me. “Let him pull off his miracle if he can. If he can’t, then I expect trouble; and at the first word of danger I hear, I’ll settle with him at last. I don’t mind his preaching suicide; but if he starts to threaten the work of the Area, it will be on his own head.” The three-quarters had struck from the great bells above our heads; and, a few minutes later, Nordenholt switched on the dictaphone. Suddenly the clarion voice of the revivalist seemed to fill the room in which we stood. “My brothers! In a few brief moments I shall leave you, ascending in glory to the skies. While I am yet with you, heed my words. Turn from this idle show which blinds your eyes. Turn from this heavy labour and unceasing toil. Turn from this valley of sin and sorrow. Turn from the lusts of the flesh and the lures of material things. Long and weary has been the way; life after life have we suffered, but when we pass into Nirvana there is rest for you, rest for each of you, eternal rest! O my brothers, all that are worn with the bearing of burdens, all that are taxed beyond your powers, all that are a-faint and borne down, follow after me into Nirvana, where none shall be a-weary and where all shall rest. There shall be no more toil, no more fatigue, no more striving and no more labour. There shall be rest, everlasting rest, a long sweet slumber under the trees, while the river flows by your feet and its murmur lulls you in your eternal rest.”