Peter Grimm gazed down upon him with eyes wherein lurked a slowly rising fire.
"Frederik Grimm!" commanded the Dead Man. "Get up! Stand up before me! Stand up, I say!"
Frederik made as though to rise, then swore under his breath and sat down again.
"Stand up!" flashed the Dead Man.
Frederik got shamblingly to his feet, and looked around with a frown, as though wondering why he had risen. His gaze swept the desk for some cause for his action, then rested moodily on the dying embers in the hearth.
The Dead Man at the far side of the desk confronted him like some unearthly Judge from whose heart pity, humanity, and all else but righteous wrath were banished.
"You shall not have my little girl!" thundered Peter Grimm. "I have come back to take her away from you. And you cannot put me to rest. I have come back. You cannot drive me from your thoughts."
He touched Frederik's damp forehead with his forefinger.
"I am there," he said. "I am looking over your shoulder as you read or write or think. I am looking in at the window when you deem you are alone and unseen. I have come back. You are breathing me in the air. I am hammering at your heart in each of your pulse beats. Wherever you are, I am there."
His forced calmness gave way to a gust of helpless rage as he felt his words falling upon world-deafened ears.