The Priory of Finchelsea VI.

Barsabbas opened the door of his lodgings in the back street in Queen's Park. Making sure that no-one had seen his distinctive green-and-yellow habit, the murderous monk stepped inside. He took the Samurai sword out of the carpet-bag that he was carrying, and he laid it down on the table.
He'd had to kill a man, but he had located the Hearth Stone, and now the blasphemous order was no more. Silas laughed manically.
"It's mine!" he cried out, dancing around the room, "The preciouss is mine!"
Mercifully, the telephone rang. Barsabbas picked it up.
"I have the preciouss," he said at once.
"Good." a mysterious voice said over the telephone. The Teacher! Barsabbas thought. "Is he dead?"
"He is dead, master, and we have the Preciouss."
"You have the Hearth Stone?"
"I know where it is. He sang like a bird."
"All right, but did he actually talk?"
"After he'd finished singing, yes. I will go and take the Preciouss."
"Are the police there?"
"Yes, but nasty Hobbitses will never take the Preciouss."
The Teacher sighed.
"Barsabbas, stop talking like Gollum and go steal the Hearth Stone."
"Yes, master," Barsabbas agreed. He put down the telephone, his hands trembling. He had sinned. He had killed a man. But pain could atone.
Barsabbas inserted his fingers into the wall-socket and turned it on.