Sometimes a preacher at the Methodist Chapel had rated them, but how mild and halting a scolding compared with the fury of this little man.As he continued they settled into their seats with the conviction that this was the best free show that they had ever enjoyed in all their lives.They had been afraid at first that it would not keep up its interest.They had agreed with one another that they would go in "just for a quarter of an hour to see what it was like." Now they were willing that it should continue all night.
"What came ye out for to see?" he screamed at them."Came out to see? Ye didn't come out at all.None of you.That's what I've come to tell you.For years you've been leading your lazy, idle, self-indulgent lives, eating and drinking, sleeping, fornicating, lying with your neighbours' wives, buying and selling, living like hogs and swine.And is it for want of your being told? Not a bit of it.
You are warned again and again and again.Every day gives you signs and wonders had you got eyes to see them and you will not see.Well, be it on your own heads.Why should I care for your miserable, shrivelled-up, parched little souls? Why should I care when I watch you all, with your hanging stomachs and your double chins, marching straight into such a hell as you've never conceived of.I know what's coming to you.I know what's in store for those well-filled stomachs of yours.I can see you writhing and screaming and wailing, 'Why didn't somebody tell us? Why didn't somebody tell us?' Somebody has told you.Somebody's telling you now.And will you listen? Not a bit of it.You'll have heard the music to-night, the drums and the trumpets, you'll have joined in the singing, and to-night you'll go back and tell your friends: 'Yes, we had a fine evening.You ought to go.It's worth while and costs you nothing.' And to-morrow you will have forgotten everything.But I tell you that every man, woman, and child in this building stands in as desperate peril as though his house was on fire over his head and there was no way out."He stopped for a moment to get breath, leaning forward over the desk and panting.Over the building there was a great silence.Maggie was stirred beyond any earlier experience.She did not know whether he were charlatan or no.She did not care.She had lived for more than two years in Skeaton, where everything and every one was dead.Now here was life.The evidence of it reassured her, whispering to her that Martin still lived, that he could be found, even that he was coming to her.Her nervous excitement increased.The emotion of the people around her, the bands, the singing, all seemed to cry to her, "He is coming! He is coming! He is coming!"...but it was Martin now and not God.