"Father!"
He replaced the stopper, still holding the phial in his hand. For a moment the heavy silence hung oppressively, and then he answered: "What is it?" His voice sounded lifeless, like that of one awakening from heavy sleep or a trance.
"You are there? Come quickly. Your men at the Beasley Rolling Mills have gone on a strike. A policeman was shot and several of the strikers wounded. You are wanted to speak to them."
"To speak to them?"
"I have a cab. You may prevent bloodshed. Come."
Father Algarcife returned the phial to its drawer, withdrew the key from the locker, and rose. He opened the door and faced the messenger. His words came thickly.
"There is no time to lose," he said. "I am ready."
He seized his hat, descended the steps, and rushed into the street.
THE END
ERRATUM
On page 194, 4th line from bottom, the word "begotten" should be omitted. (corrected in this etext)