me from between them.

"There was Anne Marie--and me--and the Other One," said he.

"What Other One?" asked McPherson, speaking in a low, emotionless voice
so as not to break in on the thought current.

"The man that came there," droned the boy.

"What man?"

"The man that made Anne Marie cry."

"What man made Anne Marie cry?"

"I--I can't remember," returned the boy, a hesitant note of trouble
creeping into his dead voice.

"Yes, you can," prompted Peter Grimm. "You _can_ remember, Willem.
You're afraid!"

"So you _do_ remember the time when you were with Anne Marie?" whispered
Kathrien as the lad hesitated. "You always told me you didn't. Doctor, I
have the strangest feeling. A feeling that all this somehow concerns
_me_, and that I must sift it to the bottom. Think, Willem. Who was it
that came and went at the house where you lived with Anne Marie?"

"That is what _I_ asked you, Willem," said Peter Grimm.

"That is what _he_ asked me," replied Willem mechanically.

"Who?" demanded McPherson. "Who asked you that question, Willem?"

"Mynheer Grimm."

"When?"

"Just now."

"Just now!" cried Kathrien and Mrs. Batholommey in a breath.

"S-sh!" admonished the doctor. "So you both asked the same question, eh?
The man that came to see----?"

"It can't be possible," expostulated Mrs. Batholommey, "that the boy has
any idea what he is talking about."

A glare from McPherson silenced her. Then the doctor asked:

"What did you tell Mr. Grimm, Willem?"

The boy hesitated.

"Better make haste," adjured the Dead Man, "Frederik is coming back."

Willem, with a shudder, glanced fearfully toward the outer door.

"Why does he do that?" wondered Kathrien. "He looked that way at the
door when he spoke of 'the Other One.' Why should he?"

"He's afraid," answered Peter Grimm.

"I'm afraid," echoed Willem.

Kathrien gathered him more closely in her warm young arms and whispered
soothingly to him. The fear died out of his eyes.

"You're not afraid, any more?" she reassured him.

"N-no," he faltered, "but--oh, _please_ don't let Mynheer Frederik come
back, Miss Kathrien! _Please_, don't! Because--because then I'll be
afraid again. I know I will."

McPherson whistled low and long. A light was beginning to break upon his
shrewd Scotch brain.

"Willem!" pleaded the Dead Man. "_Willem!_"

"Yes, sir," answered the boy.

"You must say I am very unhappy."

"He is very unhappy," repeated Willem, parrot-lik