little by little, been forced by
his own past and his own hopes into a course that at times was hateful
to him. Ten thousand men, far worse than he, walk the streets of every
big city and sleep snug o' nights with no grinning Conscience-Skull to
break their rest. A thousand well-meaning, harmless sons of dominating
and domineering parents are forced, as was he, into by-roads as hateful
to them. To be cast by Fate to enact the Villain, when one has not the
temperament, the aptitude, nor the desire for the unsavoury role, falls
to more men's lot than the world realises.

It had fallen to Frederik Grimm's. Wherefore, sick at heart, he sat with
his head in his hands. And Peter Grimm read his thoughts as from a
printed page.

"Once more a spark of manhood is alight in your soul," whispered the
Dead Man. "It is not too late. Nothing is ever too late. Turn back!"

Frederik looked up, half-listening. His hand crept out to the letter.

"Follow the impulse that is in your heart," begged the Dead Man. "Follow
it! Take the little boy in your arms. Declare him to all the world as
your own. Go down on your knees and ask his mother's forgiveness. Ah, do
it, lad, so that I can go back still trusting you,--still believing in
you,--blessing you! _Frederik!_"

"Yes," answered Frederik, starting up. "What is it?"

He glanced about the room unseeingly, then looked toward the outer door
and called:

"Come in!"

"That's curious!" he mused, settling back in his chair. "I thought I
heard some one at--_Who's at the door?_" he called again.

"_I_ am at the door," replied the Dead Man in solemn vehemence. "_I_,
Peter Grimm. The uncle who loved you and whom you tricked. Anne Marie is
at the door,--the little girl who is ashamed to come home. Willem is at
the door--your own flesh and blood--_nameless_! Katje, sobbing her heart
out,--James--all of us. _All!_ We are all at the door, Frederik! At the
door of your conscience. Ah, don't keep us waiting!"

CHAPTER XV

A HALF-HEARD MESSAGE

Frederik rose slowly from his chair. His face was working. Instinctively
his glance lifted to Kathrien's door. His eyes grew bright and his weak
mouth strong with a wondrous resolve. He crossed the room to the
stair-foot; that light of pure sacrifice deepening in his whole upraised
face.

"Yes!" urged the Dead Man, keeping eager pace with him in body and in
thought. "Yes! Call her. Give her back her promise."

The flabby muscles of a self-indu