"Willem," persisted the Dead Man, patiently starting his plan of campaign all over again from another angle, "there must be a great many things you remember,—things that happened when you lived with your mother. Aren't there?"
"I was very little," hesitated Willem, echoing a phrase he had once heard Marta use in speaking of his earlier days.
"Still," pursued the Dead Man, "you remember?"
"I—I was afraid," replied the boy, groping back in the blurred past for a fact and seizing on a gruesomely prominent one.
"Try to think back to that time," urged Peter Grimm. "You loved—her?"
"Oh, I did love Anne Marie!" exclaimed the child.
"Now," pointed out the Dead Man, "through that one little miracle of love you can remember many things that are tucked away in the back of your baby brain. Hey? Things that a single spark could kindle and light up and make clear to you. It comes back? Think! There were you—and Anne Marie——"
"And the Other One," suggested Willem on impulse.
"So! And who was the 'Other One'?"
"I'm afraid——" babbled the child.